Taming Snakes
by DelusionalGrandeur
Summary: Dumbledore ought to have known better than to leave an orphaned Harry Potter in the hands of the Dursleys. A twist of fate has the boy-who-lived living with criminals. Sly, cunning, street-smart-sorted into Slytherin where his housemates have been raised to hate him-Harry is Slytherin to the core. Does he have what it takes to turn the House of Snakes back into what it should be?
1. Prologue

Summary: Dumbledore ought to have known better than to leave an orphaned Harry Potter in the hands of the Dursleys. A twist of fate has the boy-who-lived living with criminals. Sly, cunning, street-smart-sorted into Slytherin where his housemates have been raised to hate him-Harry is Slytherin to the core. Does he have what it takes to turn the House of Snakes back into what it should be?

A/N: Because everyone has to write a story where Harry is sorted into Slytherin. No pairings for a very, very long time—and since I'm probably going to break this story up by year it won't happen in this fic. But just so everyone is forewarned, there will be Slash in the future. There will always be Slash if I'm the one writing. Not sure exactly what pairings will come up, but I'll give you fair warning. Other warnings: Child Abuse, foul language, severe bullying… that's all I think. Hope you like it.

Prologue

Carl Broderick considered himself a rogue—a scoundrel—was proud to be in the group classified as the 'dregs of society.' He was a low-life, a criminal—and a damn good one at that. There were very few things that made him second-guess his choices, and he had long since stopped griping about his lot in life.

That changed one day—on August 19, 1988 to be precise. The day in question had started out routine enough—he was finally putting a scheme in motion that he had been working on for a few weeks. It was simple, really. Not a large payout—but certainly a fast-cash sort of job.

It wasn't even the first time he had ever held a child for ransom.

One of his guys had chosen the target—a rather well-to-do suburbanite family. The husband—one Vernon Dursley—was the executive of Grunnings Drill Firm. It wasn't a very large company, but it was fairly successful. Not too high profile. Which made Vernon Dursley the perfect target.

Vernon had a wife and a son. From the time Carl's guys spent casing the less-than-modest house on Privet Drive, it was established that the son was the best choice to kidnap and demand a ransom from. The seven-year-old was a spoiled brat and the parents were doting. In less than 48 hours Carl would collect the hefty sum of 10,000 pounds.

Carl was not a large man, by any means. He was in his forties—but he was solid. He didn't work out obsessively, but he kept himself in shape. His hair was nondescript—a brown that wasn't lighter or darker than average. His eyes were also brown, though if one looked close enough golden specks could be seen at the edge of his irises. He dressed casually and practically—jeans and a blue, short-sleeved button up. His boots were just run-of-the-mill, black leather work boots.

It was 9:15 in the morning—Carl was pacing furiously in the ragged little apartment that had been hastily converted from the office of an old upholstery factory. There was a bed in one corner, a couch along the back wall and a small kitchenette—the fridge was loosely stocked with enough food to last three adults and one child for two days. A card table and several folding chairs took up most of the space in the middle of the room and the bathroom door was missing and had a shower curtain hanging in its stead.

Carl cursed as his pacing took him too close to the bed and he banged his shin on the metal bedframe. He glanced at his watch—any minute now his guys would be snatching the boy from the front yard. A quick polaroid of the kid tied up would be left with a note detailing that the police _shouldn't_ be contacted and directed Vernon and Petunia Dursley to be waiting by the phone at 6:00 that evening.

If everything went well, it would take Dan and Lou another twenty minutes to make it back to their hideout.

Carl forced himself to stop pacing, flopping down on the couch. It was an easy enough job—they'd watched the house long enough to know the family's Sunday routine. They knew the mother would be obliviously and obsessively cleaning the house while her Husband watched the telly and her son went outside after breakfast to run the neighborhood.

It would be so easy.

Twenty minutes later, Carl was pacing again. He wasn't panicking—that wouldn't happen until an hour passed the due arrival time. He had to give some leeway to the guys—maybe there was unexpected traffic or they had a flat tire—any number of issues could cause a delay.

Finally—over ten minutes past the planned rendezvous time Carl heard the sound of the heavy metal doors in the factory slamming open. He sighed, going to the door of the office and staring down over the empty factory as Dan and Lou came in. Lou—a great hulking beast of a man was leading Dudley Dursley by a firm grip on his arm. The blonde little chunker was sobbing, and appeared to have wet himself. Carl scrunched his nose in disgust.

Dan—who was nearly as tall as Lou, if much too thin and wiry for his height to be really intimidating—was dragging a second kid. Carl's eyebrows shot up—this _was not_ in their plans. The second kid was downright scrawny—wearing clothes that were at least four sizes too big. He was obediently following Dan across the factory floor, his head held down and his messy black hair flying all over the place.

"What happened!? Where the bloody hell did the extra come from!?" Carl roared, storming down the stairs to meet his two henchmen. Dan looked unimpressed by his angry glare, but Lou stopped dead and started shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. The blonde in his grasp just continued sobbing.

"We didn't realize there was another kid living with the Dursleys. He was outside—we tried to wait for him to go back into the house. But time was running by fast and we decided to grab him too." Dan explained simply, dragging the boy forward for Carl to inspect. "We figured it was better not to leave a witness if we didn't have to. Besides—two kids equals more money."

Carl glared down at the extra kid—the boy's head was still bent towards the ground. He reached out to grasp the boy's chin, ignoring the slight flinch the scrawny little thing gave when his hand came into his line of sight. There was an odd scar on the boy's forehead—shaped like a lightning bolt. He stared into the bright green eyes for a moment, arching an eyebrow. There was no fear in those eyes—just carefully concealed curiosity and a sense of wariness.

"You live with the Dursleys?"

The boy blinked at him.

"I asked you a question, boy!" Carl snapped, releasing the kid's chin.

The boy immediately looked back towards the ground, but answered quietly. "Yes, Sir."

"Since when?"

"Since my no-good parents got themselves killed when I was a baby and the Dursleys were good enough to take me in." The boy's voice was flat—the answer smooth and well-recited. Carl frowned, raising an eyebrow at Dan.

"Don't look at me—he was pulling weeds in the garden."

Carl swore again. "What's your name, kid?"

The boy shifted nervously. "Harry James Potter, Sir."

Carl snorted. "Quit it with all that 'sir' crap."

"Yes, Si—Mister." Harry muttered quietly.

"You're sure an obedient little bugger, aren't you?" Carl sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You already left the polaroid? With both boys?"

"Yes." Lou finally jumped in. "We slipped it in through the mail-slot."

"Alright." Carl jerked his head towards the stairs. "Get them up there—and clean that brat up. What did you do to scare him so bad?"

"Lou growled at him." Dan chuckled, leading Harry up the stairs. The boy didn't try to struggle as he was lead into the small apartment. Dudley Dursley on the other hand, went limp and had to be bodily lifted up the stairs. The whole while, he wouldn't stop crying.

Carl sighed again, rubbing at his temples as a headache began to stir. He had a feeling things had just gotten really complicated. Grudgingly, he trudged up the stairs—grimacing at the sounds of the chunky-boy screaming in the bathroom. Dan was gazing in the door, one eyebrow raised. "He's quite the whiner."

The other boy—Harry—was standing still by the table. His hands were clenched loosely in front of him and he was staring at the floor.

"Don't just stand there, kid. Sit!" Carl barked. Harry obeyed immediately, sitting down on the floor and completely ignoring the four empty chairs to his left.

"Do you think the kid's in shock?"

Dan shook his head. "He wasn't acting much different before we snatched him—must be slow or something."

'Or something.' Carl rolled his eyes, approaching the boy. "When I said 'sit' I meant in a chair—or on the couch. I'm not some animal that's going to make you sit on the bloody floor."

Harry made no move to get up, shaking his head. "Freaks aren't allowed to ruin the furniture."

Carl blinked at the boy, his jaw dropping. When he met Dan's gaze, he could see equal amounts of bewilderment.

"Freaks?"

Harry nodded, still not moving from his spot on the floor.

"You think you're a freak?"

Another nod.

Carl didn't look up when Lou came out of the bathroom with Dudley—the boy was soaked from head to toe and was dripping all over the place. From the looks of it, Lou hadn't bothered removing the kid's clothes before the impromptu bath. At least the little blubber-ball wasn't crying any more. His eyes were wide, and he was staring in fear between the three grown men in the room. Lou sat him down at the table—stepping easily over the other boy that was still sitting obediently on the ground.

"So. Dudley. Tell me about your friend." Carl demanded, his eyes returning to Harry.

"My friend? You mean Piers?"

"I mean Harry you bloody moron—the mysterious kid that no one knew about that lives with you!"

Dudley turned with wide eyes to look at his unmoving counterpart. "Oh. Him!? He's not my friend. He's just the ungrateful freak that lives in the cupboard under the stairs."

Incredible—someone had to be having him on. That was all there was to it. "The cupboard under the stairs?"

"Yep. Mummy and Daddy say that's where freaks live—they have to be kept hid. See? This is all his fault—Daddy didn't want to let him out today. If he had been kept in the cupboard like normal I wouldn't have been kidnapped."

"You know—I've done some pretty nasty things in my life." Dan commented dryly, sitting down on the couch. "But I think this has just turned into the most twisted thing I've ever seen."

"So. You have a boy living in the cupboard under the stairs." Carl gritted out, his eyes never leaving Harry. "Why?"

"Because he's a freak."

Ahh. The simple logic of seven-year-olds. Carl was willing to bet everything he owned that the little whale of a kid was just repeating what came from the mouths of his parents. And it disturbed him.

But what could he do? He couldn't very well go to the authorities and turn the Dursleys in, now could he? How would that go? 'Yes. I'd like to report a case of child abuse. You see, I kidnapped one kid and found out that there was another kid living in the house that I didn't know about. Kidnapped him too, just to cover my tracks. Then, I found out that the kid lives in a fucking cupboard. Would you kindly take care of it?' That would be a laugh.

"So. Harry just stays in the cupboard all the time?" Carl prompted.

"No. He has to go to school—and he has to do chores."

"I see. And what do the people at school say about him living in a cupboard?"

"They don't know that—he's not allowed to talk about what happens at home." Dudley grinned. "He has to punish himself if he does."

Carl wasn't sure what to say to that. So he said nothing.

"I'm getting really bad vibes, man." Dan muttered. Lou was frowning at Harry—who seemed completely unperturbed by the conversation.

"I'm hungry." Dudley suddenly said. He got off the chair and waddled over to Harry. "I said, 'I'm hungry!'"

Harry slowly pushed himself up—his green eyes scanning the room. He went hesitantly towards the kitchenette—opening the fridge to look inside. After a second, he pulled out some pork chops from the bottom of the fridge and continued to look around the little kitchen. At length, he found a sack of potatoes in the corner and some cooking spray. He went through the cupboards until he found two pans and found a knife in one of the drawers. While the pans were set to heat up over the little-two burner electric stove on the counter top he quickly started dicing the potatoes.

"This is fucking ridiculous." Carl muttered, frowning as he watched the boy easily and efficiently set the potatoes frying and rub the pork chops with salt and pepper. Soon, the pork chops were sizzling merrily and the potatoes were being flipped. "He can't hardly see over the fucking counter!"

Harry seemed oblivious to Carl's indignation, however. While the pork chops and potatoes were cooking, he scoured the rest of the kitchen until he had four plates and four sets of silverware. The second the food was done, four steaming plates were set at the table. Then, Harry backed himself to the corner of the kitchen and turned his gaze back to the floor.

"Is that for us?" Dan asked uncertainly, casting a look at Carl.

"Yes, Sir."

Carl wasn't sure how to react—how was one supposed to deal with a child-captive that just made a hell-of-a-decent meal for his captors? The smells were certainly making his stomach rumble—he hadn't even been that hungry before.

"Thank you, Harry." Dan moved slowly over to the table, motioning for Lou and Carl to do the same.

Harry didn't say anything—didn't move from his spot in the corner of the kitchen.

Dudley was too busy chowing down on his own plate of food to pay any attention to the three awkward adults in the room.

"Aren't you going to eat anything, Harry?" Dan asked calmly.

Harry shook his head.

"Don't you want to eat?"

More head shaking—a little more desperate this time.

"Aren't you hungry?"

Carl noted the slight pause before Harry shook his head again. "You're lying."

The boy suddenly went rigid before frantically shaking his head again. "I'm not lying, Sir. I promise. I know better than to pine after food I didn't earn. I'm not hungry. I swear!"

Damn it all—Carl swore loudly and pushed himself roughly to his feet. He snatched his plate up off the table and stomped over to the corner where Harry was still standing. The boy flinched horribly when the plate of food was shoved into his line of sight. "Eat!"

Harry didn't take the plate—but he finally looked up. His green eyes were wide and fearful for the first time that morning. "Freaks aren't allowed to eat food meant for decent people."

For the first time in his life, Carl found himself at a complete loss. His hands were shaking violently—the kid was trembling and had resumed staring at the floor. He didn't know what to do—and that was the surest way for his short temper to burst to the surface.

"Damnit! I said 'eat!' So you bloody well better take this fucking plate of food and eat!"

* * *

Quite a few hours later, Carl was lounging on the bed and staring at Harry. The boy had eaten—damn near choking himself as he wolfed the food down like a half-starved dog. He had been sick afterwards.

Carl was almost ninety-nine percent certain he would never be able to send this kid back where he came from for any amount of money. After the kid vomited on the floor he had rushed to clean it up.

Dan had put a stop to that—Lou had just watched the whole thing with wide eyes. But that wasn't the real kicker.

The real kicker was that the kid had promptly stripped and braced himself against one of the folding chairs and waited to be 'punished' for making a mess on the floor.

The kid had been sick—it certainly hadn't been his fault. Yet Harry had stood there, completely naked and waited for a beating.

And there were scars—lots of them—from a belt, and most definitely from a knife. On top of that, the kid was literally nothing more than skin and bones.

Carl had never been so disgusted in his life—but it still only got worse. When he had started yelling at the pathetic little creature to get his damn clothes back on the boy had taken that to mean that he was to punish himself.

Now, Carl was not a fan of killing—but he was sorely tempted to throw the whole ransom deal out the window and just go massacre those bloody fiends that dared call themselves 'decent people.' What the fuck was wrong with them? Who brainwashed a little kid into thinking he was a freak that had to 'punish himself.'

Luckily, Carl had managed to get the knife away from the kid before he got very far in his 'punishment.'

Dudley had watched the whole thing without batting an eyelash. He had even brought a little more information to the table—so to speak.

"If he doesn't punish himself properly, Daddy has to do it and it will be worse. Freaks have to be punished good and often if they ever have any hope of becoming normal."

Yeah. Carl had lost his temper again. Part of him knew that the blond-blob was just as brainwashed as Harry was—but he just couldn't take any more. He'd bound and gagged the boy. And left him sobbing and writhing on the floor.

It was just Carl and Lou at the moment—Dan had gone down the street to make the phone call to the Dursleys. Carl didn't trust himself not to lose his temper. Dudley had fallen asleep after a very long temper tantrum. Lou had finally untied the little snot after an hour of muffled screaming. Carl had to threaten to punish him like his Daddy punished 'freaks' to get him to shut up.

Harry had stayed completely still—standing rooted to the same spot in the kitchen. Until Carl had finally lost his temper again and told him to 'sit.' He'd then bodily lifted the boy from the floor and deposited him on the couch. The boy hadn't moved since. Only now, as Carl watched him carefully, he seemed to be fidgeting—just the slightest squirm.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Nothing, Sir."

Carl narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Don't lie to me. Why are you fidgeting?"

Harry bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'll sit still."

"I don't want you to sit still! I want you to tell me why you're fidgeting!"

Lou was sitting next to the boy on the couch and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have to use the loo?"

Harry hesitated, before nodding. "But I can wait."

"There's no reason to wait! The bathroom's right there! If you have to use it, just use it!" Carl snapped his mouth closed, massaging both temples. "Why would you not use the loo?"

"I have to wait for permission, Sir."

That boy was going to be the death of him—that was all there was to it. He was going to have a massive stroke if he found out any more of the perverse rules this kid had to live by. "You have my permission to use the bathroom whenever you need to."

Harry stayed frozen on the couch for a second, before slowly getting up. "Thank you, Sir." He walked slowly to the bathroom—and a second later the sound of a very heavy stream could be heard splashing into the toilet. It seemed to last forever.

"How bloody long was he holding it for!?"

Lou just shrugged, his eyes wide. At length, the toilet flushed and the sink turned on. Harry came out, wiping his hands on his pants.

"I want you to sit down—on the couch! And I want you to tell me about all the rules you have to follow at the Dursleys. Do not lie to me. Do you understand, Harry?" Carl moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over and bracing his elbows on his knees. Harry sat stiffly on the couch, staring at the ground. "Look at me, Harry. Do you understand?"

Green eyes flickered up for a second, finally settling somewhere around his chin. "I understand, Sir."

"Good. Let's have 'em."

Carl wasn't entirely sure this was a great idea—he was already in over his head. But he didn't want to continue having to weasel the information out of the boy.

"Number One: I am a freak. I must not forget I am a freak.

Number Two: I am never to do anything freakish or unnatural—ever.

Number Three: I must not ask questions.

Number Four: I must not speak unless I am told to.

Number Five: I must not cry, whine, scream or snivel.

Number Six: I will never talk back or argue.

Number Seven: I am to stay in my cupboard at all times unless I am told to come out.

Number Eight: If there is company, I absolutely must not be seen or heard."

Carl felt his rage growing as the kid continued to recite the rules—each more outrageous than the next.

"Number Seventeen: I will not steal food.

Number Eighteen: I must complete my chores before I eat.

Number Nineteen: I am only allowed to eat if there is food left over that no one else wants."

Lou was just staring at the kid. It was somewhere around 'Rule Number Twenty-Four' that Dan came back—he stayed silent while Harry finished.

"Number Twenty-Four: I must not tell lies.

Number Twenty-Five: I am always wrong.

Number Twenty-Six: If I break any of the rules, I must punish myself.

Number Twenty-Seven: If I don't do a good job punishing myself, I will get a worse punishment."

The boy finally fell silent, staring at the floor. Dan's mouth was hanging open, and Lou's fists were clenched tightly in his lap. Carl just blinked at the boy—trying to process everything. At length, he turned his attention to Dan.

"Well?"

"I talked to Vernon Dursley—told him to have 15,000 ready by tomorrow at six and wait for more instructions. I told him if he followed our directions neither boy would be harmed."

"And?" There was more to it—Carl could practically smell the unsaid 'but…'

"He yelled at me for a bit that I better not lay a hand on his son—then he tried to bargain with me. Said he'd give 20,000 if we returned his son and kept 'the other one.'"

"Oh." Carl turned his gaze back to Harry. "What did you tell him?"

"I said 'it's a deal.'" Dan ducked his head a little when Carl shot him a glare. "Don't look at me like that—we can't send that kid back there! I know you weren't going to anyways. He's actually going to pay us extra to keep him!"

"What the bloody hell are we going to do with a brainwashed, damaged little kid!?"

Dan shrugged. "Beats me. What other options do we have?"

Huffing, Carl let himself collapse back on the bed. What other options did they have? It was just their luck that they had stumbled across a situation that was worthy of a Steven King novel. They didn't have any other options.

Carl had already known that he couldn't send Harry back to those bloody lunatics. Looked like the choice was made for him. "Seriously!? What kind of people do that!? Bargain with kidnappers to _keep_ a child!? This is so bloody fucked up!?"

Dan didn't say anything.

"Are you going to keep me?" Harry suddenly asked quietly before slapping a hand over his mouth. His eyes went wide. "I'm sorry."

"Yes. I'm going to keep you." Carl ground out. "Rule number one—all the rules you had at the Dursleys no longer exist. Do you understand? We're making new rules once this is all over, and you don't have to follow their rules any more. If you're hungry you get to eat—and you get to eat what everyone else is eating. If you have to use the loo, you use the bloody loo. You will not punish yourself—under any circumstances. And you most definitely don't have to live in a cupboard anymore. Do you understand, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well—we'll just have to work on that then, won't we?"

* * *

The next night found Carl leaning against a lamppost, smoking a cigarette in the back lot of a liquor store. It was nearing midnight, and he was awaiting the arrival of one Vernon Dursley to trade 20,000 pounds for his son.

Dan had the little blubber-blob in the trunk of a car—he was parked down an alley just barely in sight. He was set to drive away at the first sign of trouble.

A sleek black car came tearing down the street—roaring around the corner and screeching to a stop across the parking lot. Carl raised an eyebrow at the large, lummox of a man that leapt out of the car. Even in the darkness, Carl could see the way the man's chins jiggled as he marched determinedly across the parking lot—a small duffel bag in hand.

"Where's my son!?"

"He's safe." Carl quipped lightly, tossing his cigarette on the ground. "You'll get him when I get my money."

Dursley puffed out his chest. "I'm not paying you a single note until I see he's safe."

Carl rolled his eyes, waving slightly. Dan got out of the car, popping the trunk and pulling the weeping blob out of the car. A gesture from Carl had Dursley's beady eyes focusing on his son.

"There he is. Now, the money."

Dursley hesitated again. "I changed my mind about the other one. I need him back too."

"That's not going to happen."

Dursley puffed himself up again, looking like an overinflated parade balloon. "Now see here! I have to take the boy back! The other freaks will come after us if we lose him."

"Other freaks…?" Carl shook his head, pulling a pistol out of the back of his trousers and advancing on the man. "Now, you listen here you bloody wanker. You will never see that boy again—and if you don't drop it you aren't going to get your son back. Now, I have a few questions you're going to answer. Then, you are going to give me my money, take your son, drive home and pretend you never knew Harry ever existed. Understand?"

Dursley's eyes narrowed on the gun and he nodded mutely.

"Who is Harry Potter? How did you get your fucking hands on him?"

"Er… You see… He's my wife's sister's kid—her and her husband were bloody freaks that got themselves killed and he got left on our doorstep. I mean that literally—my wife went out to get the milk one day and there he was, wrapped up in a blanket with just a letter explaining what happened to his bloody parents. If it had been up to me I'd have carted him straight to the orphanage. But Petunia said we had to keep him. Then, he started showing signs of his abnormalness—just like his parents. What kind of man would I be if I didn't try to stop it before it got out of hand!?"

Carl growled. "You're a bloody lunatic. He's just a kid! There's nothing he could have possibly done—you know what!? Forget it! We're done here. Leave the money, take your bloody lard ball with you. And if I find out you're trying to get the kid back—just remember that I know where you live, where you work—where your kid goes to school. You'll regret it. From this day forward, you don't know anything about Harry Potter. He doesn't exist anymore. Understand!?"

Dursley nodded, his chins bobbing up and down with his head. He dropped the duffel bag on the ground. Carl swept it up, opening it to make sure the money was actually inside. Then, he motioned for Dan to let the kid go.

"Daddy!"

"Dudders!" Vernon waddled across the parking lot to meet his son half-way. It took only a few seconds for the man to usher his son into the car and speed away. Carl slowly approached Dan, thrusting the bag of money at him. "We can count it later. Let's get the hell out of here."

"What did you find out?" Dan asked as they climbed into the car.

"Petunia Dursley is Harry Potter's aunt."

"Really?"

"Yes." Carl frowned. "He went off about his parents being 'freaks' and how Harry showed signs of abnormalness—seemed to think it was his duty to 'do something about it.'"

Dan frowned. "So what do we do now?"

"We go back and get the kid—I bet Lou is out of his mind right about now."

However, Lou was actually in his element. When Carl and Dan got back to the small apartment in the closed-down factory they found Lou sitting with Harry on his lap. He had changed the boy into a t-shirt—one of his own that was so large it damn near reached the boy's ankles.

Harry was watching wide eyed as Lou read him something out of a magazine—some car magazine. Every once and a while, he had Harry try to read a section.

"You two look like you're having fun." Carl commented dryly.

"I didn't have any bedtime stories." Lou shrugged. He lifted the boy off his lap. Harry stood unsurely where he was placed, looking up at Carl from under his flyaway hair.

"Well, it's settled. You are never going back to the Dursleys." Carl watched the boy carefully. "You are going to stay with me."

Harry nodded, turning his gaze back to the floor. Carl strode across the room and kneeled in front of the boy, lifting his chin so he could make eye contact. "Do you understand what that means? You are going to have a new life—you're going to be treated better. I can't promise that life with me is going to be really nice—hell, I'm a bloody criminal. But I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

Harry's eyes widened a bit, but he didn't say anything.

"And because you're going to start a new life, I think you ought to have a new name. How 'bout we go with James?"

The boy nodded his agreement, and Carl smiled. He picked the boy up, glancing around the derelict room. "How old are you, by the way?"

"I don't know, Sir." James bowed his head, keeping his eyes glued to Carl's chin.

"Shoulda asked the bloody whale." Dan muttered. "Too late for that now."

Carl ignored him. "James. You don't have to call me 'Sir.' My name is Carl. This is Dan, and that big guy over there is Lou. You got that?"

James nodded shyly.

"Great. Now, I'm going to take you home with me. In the morning, we're going to buy you some clothes and toys and things. Are you hungry at all? Remember, I don't want you to lie to me."

It took a minute for the boy to answer. "I am a little hungry, Sir. I mean—Carl."

"Good boy." Carl patted the messy head. "We'll go through the drive through on the way. You can order as much as you want—of whatever you want. Do you understand?"

James nodded again.

"Bloody excellent."


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Nearly four years had passed since that fateful day when Harry James Potter ceased to be Harry and simply became James. James had grown—albeit not very much. He was small for his age—not that he knew for certain how old he was. The best guess was that he was nine or ten. His hair was longer—reaching just past his shoulders—and as messy as ever. Most of the time, it served to hide the jagged, lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. His eyes were bright green—glowing with a quiet intelligence and promising mischief. They were rimmed by dark lashes that often got him mistaken for a _girl_. He was skinny—scrawny really and a little too short—but he was healthy for his rather stunted stature.

June was turning out to be surprisingly cool—cool enough that the nights were downright cold. It was nearing midnight, and James had to suppress a shiver as he leaned against a lamppost in his ripped, faded jeans and black long-sleeved shirt. He had a jacket in the car, but it was a rather bulky thing and James had decided to leave it behind so he could have the freedom to move.

A glance at his watch showed that it was two minutes til—James shrugged, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it. From a distance, one would think the scene a little odd—after all how many times does a person see a ten-year-old leaning against a lamppost in the dead of night in a forsaken part of the city, smoking a fag? If anyone had been close enough to notice, they would have realized that there was something even more bizarre about the kid—he hadn't used anything more than a snap of his fingers to light the cigarette.

But that was normal for James. He could do all sorts of weird stuff like that. And he had long since come to accept his strange 'gift' for what it was—instead of trying to punish himself for his 'freakiness.'

James took a slow drag of his cigarette, his eyes flickering towards the dark shadows to either side of him. His best friend, Thomas, was lingering just out of sight in the darkness to his left. Dan was parked in a dark alley across the way. James could barely make out the gleam of the car's bumper reflecting the light from the street lamp.

Finally, at six minutes past the hour a car slowly drove up. It was bright red—but the paint was peeling in places. The man driving stared at James for a long time before finally getting out of the car.

"You're James?"

"The one and only." James grinned, flicking his cigarette on the ground and slowly approaching the man. "You got the money?"

The man straightened up, looking around suspiciously before going to the back of the car and popping the trunk. He took a few steps back and let James peek inside. Next to the spare tire and jack was a black duffel-bag. "You got the goods?"

"You'll get what you paid for. It's all there?" James flicked his gaze to the tall man, his eyes narrowing in suspicion at the slight catch in his throat when he answered.

"Of course it is. What do you take me for!?"

"I take you for a cheat." James said simply. "You're lying. How much are you short?"

The man seemed to swell at that—and James simply raised an eyebrow.

"Ten? Fifteen? Twenty?" James knew he had nailed it on the head—there was just _something_ in the man's eyes that gave him away. "Twenty short? This won't do at all. The deal was a hundred even."

"What are you going to do about it!?" The man suddenly whipped out a gun, leveling it at James' chest. "I want the guns—now!"

James simply raised an eyebrow, smirking as his eyes landed on the gun. He could tell at a glance that it was indeed loaded. "And what do you think you're going to do with _that_?" As he emphasized the last word, the clip fell out of the bottom of the gun and the round that was in the chamber unloaded itself. The man stood frozen for a second, before dropping the gun and backing away. The cocking of a hammer sounded loud in the abandoned parking lot, and the man swung around to face Thomas as the boy strode out of the shadows—a revolver leveled evenly.

Thomas was thirteen—almost fourteen. He was much taller than James, though nearly as skinny. He had brown hair that framed his face, and brown eyes that were constantly narrowed in suspicion. At the moment, he was grinning slyly as he circled around the man, keeping the gun trained on him.

"Here's how this is gonna work." James explained calmly as Thomas reached into the trunk to grab the duffel-bag. "We're going to take the money. You have two weeks to get the rest of it—with an extra 10,000 as an apology for trying to rip us off."

The man didn't move, or even acknowledge James.

James fished a small card out of his pocket, flicking it at the man. It stuck to his forehead. "Call that number when you have the rest of it. Only then will you get the goods. If you don't have it in two weeks—well let's just say that we're keeping what we've already got for the trouble. Do you understand?"

The man nodded, picking the card off his head with trembling fingers.

"Good. Now get out of here."

Thomas came to stand by James as the man fled back to his car. The tires squealed as he peeled out, and after a few seconds the sounds of his car were distant.

"That was bloody wicked—the thing with the card! He nearly pissed himself." Thomas grinned at him, hoisting the duffel over his shoulder and nodding his head in the direction of the car. He stashed his revolver back in his jacket pocket. "Dan's going to love this."

"Bloody wanker." James muttered, shaking his hair out of his face. "You'd think they'd wise up and stop trying to rip us off." However, he couldn't stop the grin from exploding on his face. "It was pretty wicked, wasn't it?"

"The best one yet." Thomas agreed. Dan was leaning against the car when they got there, the trunk already popped. Thomas settled the duffel in the trunk and slipped into the back seat. James took his spot in the front seat as Dan slammed the trunk closed and climbed back into the driver's seat.

"What happened?"

"That fucking tosser tried to rip us off." James shrugged. "Told him he has two weeks to get the rest of the money plus some if he wants to do business."

"You should have seen him, Dan." Thomas bit out excitedly. "He's getting better with that sixth sense stuff—he unloaded the gun by just looking at it and stuck the card to the wanker's forehead. It was bril!"

Dan smiled, reaching over to ruffle James' hair. "Atta boy. Carl would be so proud of you."

James ducked his head at that, the grin sliding off his face. "If he would ever forgive me for screwing him up so bad."

"We've been over this before—that's not your fault."

It had been a little less than a year since the accident—Carl had been walking down the street with James when he had been ploughed over by a drunk driver. He'd barely had enough time to push James out of the way before the SUV had bowled into him. The older man had been a mess, his head smashed in and his body damn near in pieces. James had lost it right then and there, and tried his hardest to heal his mentor.

When the paramedics had finally arrived, there was nothing visibly wrong with Carl. The puddle of blood on the sidewalk was a mystery to them, as was the sight of James sobbing over the older man. They had loaded Carl into the ambulance and brought the kid along.

At the hospital, the doctors were at a complete loss—Carl had severe trauma to his brain. However, there was no sign of a head injury—or any injury for that matter. But Carl was brain-damaged beyond repair. He had lost a good deal of his motor functions, couldn't talk, didn't recognize his surroundings—nothing. He was a drooling invalid.

James knew it was his fault—he had used his 'gift' to try and save Carl. But knowing Carl like he did, he was fairly certain the older man would rather be dead than spending the rest of his life in an institution, having to be hand fed and floating through with the same glazed look on his face day-after-day.

James visited him a lot—talked to him, told him how business was going. But still, Carl never showed any signs of recognizing the boy he damn near raised. Since then, Dan had taken over the business as well as James and Thomas.

"You got a fag?" James asked over his shoulder, nodding in thanks when Thomas passed him a cigarette. He lit it with a snap of his fingers and rolled down the window.

"You know, when Carl gets better he's going to kill me because I let you smoke." Dan commented.

James snorted in reply, but couldn't help a small smile. It was a running joke of sorts. Everyone knew that there was no way Carl was going to 'get better.' But it helped to pretend he would.

"Like you could stop him if you tried." Thomas muttered from the back seat. "He's a bloody stubborn little shit. We both know he does what he wants, when he wants."

Dan didn't say anything, but flashed James a smile.

"So. Jamie-boy! Any other new tricks you got up your sleeve?"

James rolled his eyes. "All new tricks are going to stay up my sleeve until I need to use them. Can't ruin the surprise, right?"

Thomas laughed. "I s'pose not. But warn me if it's something big—I don't want to be one of the wankers standing there with my mouth open."

"I wouldn't do that to you!"

"Sure you wouldn't—just like you wouldn't shrink my bloody underwear like the rest of the tossers you were trying to mess with."

"That was an accident!" James turned in his seat to glare at the older boy. "I already said 'sorry.' I was just trying to make them squirm—didn't realize you were caught in it as well. Didn't really need to find out that Dan was unaffected because he doesn't wear pants, either."

Dan shook his head. "You will never get me to complain about that—not with the way you had them shrieking that their balls were getting squeezed."

James snorted, hiding his laughter with a cough. "It was funny as hell—to see a bunch of supposed crooks trying to be badass when they were crying like little girls."

Dan snorted, shaking his head as he pulled the car into a self-storage unit. He stopped in front of unit number 28 and jumped out of the car. A minute later, the stash of guns was locked safely inside and they were back on the road. The ride was silent the rest of the way back to the flat Dan owned.

"What we got going tomorrow?" James asked as Dan led the way up to the third floor. The duffel was hanging casually off his shoulder, and he shrugged as he unlocked the door. Lou grinned at them from the couch and flicked off the telly as they came in.

"We're not really doing anything tomorrow." Dan tossed the bag into a closet. "You two should go out and do some 'kid stuff.' Have some fun."

"This is fun." Both James and Thomas said, grinning at each other.

"That's not what I meant." Dan scowled, going to the kitchen and pouring himself a couple fingers of scotch. "You two need to take a break and do what normal kids do—go to the park or something, get hyped up on sugar."

James pouted, launching himself up to sit on the counter in the kitchen. "Whatsamatter? Not feeling guilty again, are you?"

"Not really. But you still have tomorrow off. So go raise hell somewhere else, will ya?" Dan's grin was nearly feral, and James snickered.

"You want some alone time? Why didn't you just say so? Oh, well. I can take a hint." James smirked at Lou, who just rolled his eyes and picked up a magazine. Thomas was distinctly red in the face, but didn't fidget much.

"Cheeky little shit." Dan ruffled his hair playfully, plopping down on the couch by Lou. "Well, we won't have them in our hair tomorrow."

"Hmmm." Lou grunted, shrugging. But James could tell that the  
man was actually pleased. So could Dan, if his smirk was anything to go by.

"Right. Well, if we're going to the zoo tomorrow we'd better get some sleep!" James jumped off the counter, motioning for Thomas to follow him into their room. "Behave, you two!"

Dan and Lou's only response was to flip him the bird.

"The zoo? Again?" Thomas groaned, flopping down on the bottom bunk bed in the room. It took a few minutes for James to respond, busy as he was searching for a clean pair of sleep pants in the piles of laundry on the floor. He finally found an acceptable pair and quickly changed. He slipped into the bathroom to take out his contacts—it had taken him months to convince Dan to let him switch up from his glasses. The blasted things had broken more times than he could count—and in the end it was cheaper to go with contacts.

However, at the first sign of him not taking proper care of them he was to go back to glasses.

So he had been obsessively taking care of them. He cleaned them carefully and stashed them in their little plastic container. Thomas was grumbling at him when he came back into the room.

"I like the zoo—besides. We can get in for free."

"You just like talking to the snakes." Thomas muttered. "It's funny though. People freak out when the snakes start doing all that crazy shit."

"Yep. What's the bet that I'll make some little kid cry tomorrow?"

"I'm not going to take that bet—I know you will if you want to." Thomas muttered, his eyes slipping closed as James flicked off the lights and climbed into the top bunk. "Night."

"Night."

* * *

It was probably the first truly hot day of the summer—James was sweating in his long sleeved shirt and jeans. He probably should have worn something a little cooler, but people always stared at him when they could see the scars on his arms. Thomas was wearing a white tank with a pair of khaki shorts—James glared at him when he didn't seem bothered by the heat at all.

"Should have thought of that before." Thomas smirked. James hit him in the shoulder, grudgingly nodding his head as they walked sedately around a group of excited five-year-olds. The zoo was very crowded, and James was tempted to just call it a day and go do something else.

But he couldn't without saying hi to the snakes—especially Andrèia. The Boa Constrictor was old—nearing fifty years from what James could tell. And she was huge.

But she was also lonely.

The coolness of the reptile house was a welcome relief from the blazing sun. James grinned at Thomas, leisurely walking around the different tanks and stopping to talk with a few snakes when there weren't a bunch of people huddled around. Finally, he made his way to Andrèia's tank—there were two boys standing there with their faces pressed to the glass. One of the boys was ginormous—a real chunker. The other was thin and twig-like.

"Make it move!" The fat, blonde demanded to a man that was damn near half the size of a car—in James' humble opinion at least. Him and Thomas held back while the fat man rapped on the glass. The Boa ignored him, simply lazing under the heat lamp.

"This is boring!" The pig-boy whined, grabbing his friend's arm and leading him to another tank.

_"Sorry about them."_ James muttered to the snake as he approached, pleased when the Boa lifted her head so she was eye level with him.

_"You're back, I see. Boa tarde. How is my humana pouco?"_

_"I'm doing good. How are you, Andrèia?"_

_"As well as can be with those idiotas banging on the glass all day."_

_"You'd think they'd show a little respect—after all, you could crush them like rats if you had a chance."_

_"Not that I would—they don't smell very appetizing."_

James chuckled darkly, shooting Thomas a grin. The older boy was leaning with his back against the glass.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

James leapt back from the glass as he was elbowed hard in the side by the enormous blonde boy. The skinny kid was right on his heels, both leaning against the glass. James growled, rubbing his ribs and glaring at the two boys—the glass was suddenly gone and they both tumbled over the railing and into the exhibit.

_"Thanks, meu amigo!"_

Andrèia was unfurling herself from the tank at a rapid pace, even as the two boys faltered to try and get away from her.

"That's bloody wicked." Thomas snorted in his ear, and James couldn't stop the laugh. That was when he noticed the panicking couple trying to push through the crowd of people stampeding out of the reptile house. The huge man was back, with a horse-faced woman. James shifted uncomfortably, turning to Thomas. "We should get out of here."

There was just something about the man and the woman that turned his stomach into a pit of writhing snakes.

"Mum!"

Before they could leave, James' attention was back on the two boys in the Boa tank. The glass had reappeared—they were pounding on it. He snorted again as the woman threw herself against the glass, trying to get to them.

"Dudders! Hang on! Mummy will get you out!"

"Let's go." Thomas tugged on his arm, but James stayed rooted to the spot—looking frantically between the shrieking woman and the large man, and to the vaguely familiar fat kid with blonde hair. He froze when the woman's cold blue eyes suddenly narrowed on him.

"You! You did this! You little freak, get them out! NOW!"

James flinched back from the woman as she advanced on him, and ducked out of her reach. Thomas was yelling something, but James suddenly found himself in the heavy grasp of the walrus-like man. The man turned purple, his jowls quivering as he started yelling.

"It is you! YOU LITTLE FREAK!"

There was spit flying in his face, and James couldn't get free. Several zoo workers were rushing in both doors of the reptile house, and James reacted instinctually. He kicked the large man in the balls, wrenching out of his grip and screaming. "PERVERT! DON'T TOUCH ME THERE!"

All motion stopped, except for James and Thomas—Thomas grabbed his arm again, and this time James didn't fight as they ran out of the reptile house. They didn't stop running until they were out of the zoo gates quite a ways down the street.

"What happened back there!?" Thomas gasped when they finally came to a stop. "I've never seen you freeze up like that! What's wrong!?"

James just shook his head, bending over and trying to force air into his lungs. "I knew them—those were the people I used to live with!"

"Oh." Thomas scowled. "Bloody hell—you should've said something. I would've shanked them."

James realized he was trembling, and rubbed his arms to try and get himself under control. "It doesn't matter—let's just… let's go home."

Thomas didn't say anything, didn't mention that they would be surprising Dan and Lou several hours early—didn't even mention anything when James had to wipe his eyes with his sleeve. One long trip on the tube and a short walk later they were slipping back into the flat.

"Fair warning! We're back. You have two minutes to make yourself decent if you aren't already!" Thomas yelled. They heard muffled cursing coming from the kitchen, and a second later Dan appeared around the corner. He was zipping up his pants, and wasn't wearing a shirt.

"What the bloody hell—you knew we would be busy today!"

James didn't say anything, just stared at the ground.

"Er… We had a run in with some people today—those lunatics that gave Jamie all his scars." Thomas explained quietly.

"The Dursleys? Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

James shook his head, blinking his eyes rapidly to try and stop the tears. Lou came around the corner and swept him off his feet into a huge bear-hug. The crying started in earnest then.

"I'm sorry! I-I-I'm being stupid. I shouldn't still be afraid of them after all this time!"

"Shush now." Lou took him over to the couch, sitting down with the trembling boy in his lap. Thomas and Dan followed slowly. "They hurt you a lot back then—and you were pretty helpless when they did. That's what you're going to remember. But you also have to remember that they can't hurt you anymore. If they do—well you don't want to know what me, Dan and Thomas will do to them."

James chuckled. "I know—I just—they… I know." He sniffed, wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve.

"Jamie got the two boys though." Thomas supplied. "Set Andrèia on them, and then locked them in the Boa tank. It was fucking awesome!"

James snickered. "They were being prats." He sniffed again, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "You're not disappointed in me?"

"Of course not." Lou patted his back. Though the gesture was meant to be comforting, it still knocked some of James' breath away. "Those people were pure evil—hell! Even Dan here was scared of them."

Dan snorted, rolling his eyes. "Me? You were the one that nearly wet yourself."

"You wanna go!?"

"Name the time and place!"

James grinned, sliding off of Lou's lap. He was well used to the friendly bickering—though sometimes the two men really did come to blows. "Well, sorry we interrupted your day. We're gonna go get ice-cream and get hyped up on sugar."

"Sure thing, kiddo. Stay out late!"

"We'll be back after ten." James lead the way to the door, Thomas on his heels.

"What are we really gonna do?"

"We're really gonna get some ice-cream—then we're going to go to the carnival."

"About bloody time! The thing's been in town for a week!"

* * *

After the two boys had run themselves ragged after eating too many sweets and riding too many rides, they had dawdled around nowhere in particular until after midnight. Thomas went straight to bed when they got back to the flat—but long after the lights had been turned out James lay awake.

He couldn't sleep. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he would get a sinking feeling in his stomach that made him want to retch. The darkness of the room didn't usually bother him, but it seemed to be smothering him. Sighing, he climbed off the top bunk and silently padded out of the room.

Lou and Dan were talking in hushed voices in the kitchen, and neither of them noticed James come in.

"I'm not saying that, Dan! I'm just saying we should give him a break. He's still a bloody child—he doesn't need to be running around at all hours, making arms deals—"

"He's good at it!" Dan argued. "Really good! You know, things would have turned really nasty last night if he hadn't been there! The wanker was trying to fuck us over—and would have shot someone! The kid has a gift—it makes no sense not to use it!"

"I'm not saying forever! Just until things smooth over—you know what those Dursley bastards were like! He still has nightmares about them! Coming face-to-face with them ain't gonna do anything for him!"

Dan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're right—and we can't have him out on the streets if he has another breakdown. But he's not going to like this at all."

"No I'm not!" James growled, frowning as he took a seat at the table.

"It's not polite to listen to other people's conversations." Dan quipped—but he wasn't really upset.

"You don't think I can handle it!? Just because of what happened today?"

"We're not saying that." Lou began cautiously. "I just think it would be a good idea for you to take some time and sort things out—you never even talk about what happened before you were with us."

James shifted, rubbing his arms underneath his shirt. "What's there to talk about? They were twisted lunatics."

"That's not the point." Lou sighed. "The point is, you're not over it yet—and you won't be so long as you keep clamming up whenever it comes up."

"I don't—"

"The cupboard!" Lou said pointedly, and James shut his mouth.

"That was below the belt."

"No. It wasn't. It happened—it was an accident, but it happened. You didn't talk for three days, stopped eating and woke up screaming every night for two weeks. You are not over this."

James fidgeted. "Well, how do I get over it?"

"It just takes time—and eventually you're going to have to talk about it with someone."

"I talk about it with Carl."

"Carl can't understand what you're saying to him!"

James ducked his head, rubbing his forearm where the most prominent scars from his 'self-punishment' were. He pulled his sleeve up to glare at the uniform line of scars he had painstakingly carved himself. The two men were watching him carefully when he looked back up.

"Even when I used to punish myself, I'd still get punished again. It was never good enough the first time. Sometimes, I'd have to try again when it was all over, and sometimes I just had to 'practice.'"

"And how did that make you feel?" Lou asked, leaning forward and leaning his elbows on the table.

"I don't really remember feeling much of anything." James admitted quietly, dropping his gaze to somewhere around Lou's chin. "I was used to it. It still hurt, but it was just the way it was. I hate that more than anything now—looking down and knowing that I did that to myself. Especially because I know that it didn't really make a difference—_he_ would punish me anyways. So I really didn't have to punish myself."

"But you didn't know that." Lou pointed out.

"Yeah. But I know it now."

There was silence at this, and James took a deep breath. He was watching the two older men carefully, noting the way they wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I can't talk about this stuff with you—it freaks you out." He stopped them before they tried to argue. "I'll know if you're lying to me!"

Lou slumped in his seat. "It bothers me—every time I think about it I just want to go shoot someone. And I never get less angry."

"Same here." Dan frowned. "But you still ought to talk about it."

But James was already shaking his head. "I can't do this—not if it bothers you. That's why it's so easy to talk to Carl now. Because he listens, but he doesn't get it—doesn't know what it means. So I can talk about it all and I don't have to worry about him freaking out over it."

"Do any of the nurses or doctors ever overhear you? You have to be careful about that."

"They don't." James shrugged. "I just have to concentrate really hard on them not noticing us and they don't. They don't even realize we're there until I go to leave."

"Hmm." Dan leaned back in his chair. "You know—there are more people like you out there. People that can do stuff like you can. There's rumors about it—says they hide in plain sight. I don't know if I believe half the crap I hear—there's rumors that there are people that can turn themselves into animals with just a thought—but some of the stuff they say they can do is just like what you do. Most of the people seem to have special sticks they use—kind of like wands."

James shrugged. "What's that got to do with me?"

"I don't know. Just thought you might want to know—there's been more and more rumors popping up lately. Some of them are obviously complete lies. But a lot of them I'm willing to believe after knowing you."

James grinned and said seriously. "You know, if there are a lot of people that can do the same things, I'm not really that special then."

"Of course you are—you're special to us. And most of those people don't hang around with us low-life's. They seem to be more 'society' types."

"Bloody ponces." Lou grumbled.

"What's your point?"

Dan shrugged. "Was just wondering if you wanted to check into it—might be interesting."

"That's not going to work." James said flatly.

"What?"

"I'm not that easy to distract."

"Fine! But you still aren't going to be out in the streets for a while!"

"Try and stop me! You need me out there!"

"Don't argue with us on this!" Lou buried his face in his hands. "We're only doing this because I don't want to see you get hurt! Please, Jamie! Please."

James snapped his mouth shut. "But—but what if you guys get hurt because I'm not there to help you?"

"We've been doing this since before you were born, kid." Lou grinned. "We'll be fine."

James hung his head. "Fine. But I'm not going to act like some bloody tosser and just waste all my time doing 'kid-stuff.'"

"Of course not." Dan was smirking in triumph. James pouted at him before going back to his room to sleep.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

One week later, James was bored out of his mind—Thomas had been a good sport through the whole thing, usually keeping James company when Dan and Lou were out 'working.' But James was going to go nuts if he was left home by himself one more time.

The second drop had gone smoothly—the man had paid the additional 30,000 without complaint. Though according to Thomas, he had been far too relieved that James hadn't been present.

James had gone to see Carl in the institution nearly every day—it was getting on his nerves that the nurses all knew his name and got teary eyed every time he came around. It was one of those days—and James was irritated. Carl was just sitting in his wheelchair, staring blankly ahead.

"They're treating me like a bloody baby." James whined. He was holding Carl's hand, but for all it went noticed James might as well have been squeezing a lump of wood. He felt a lump form in his throat and shook his head. "You wouldn't have done something like this—you know I like to be out there. I need to be out there. I'm going fucking crazy just sitting in that flat."

Like usual, Carl remained unmoved.

"I miss you, Carl." James cleared his throat, standing up. "I'll come back in a few days. I promise."

One of the doctors caught him on his way out the door.

"Hi, Son. How are you holding up?"

James shrugged at the man. "Same old. What do you want?"

If the man was thrown by his rudeness, he didn't show it. "I just wanted to say that I'm glad you haven't stopped coming to see Mr. Broderick. It's really touching—most people would have given up on him by now."

"Well I'm not most people." James snapped. "I'm not going to give up on Carl—ever."

"Of course." The doctor frowned, but didn't say anything further as James walked away.

It was still early in the day—just after noon. James strolled along slowly, grimacing at the sun beating down on him. His long-sleeved shirt was stifling, but he still couldn't bear to go without it.

There was something weird in the air that day—James could almost feel it. It didn't really make much sense to him, but he couldn't shrug it off.

Even more bizarre was the fact that he counted at least three owls swooping around—in the city—in broad daylight.

It was definitely a strange sort of day.

James slowly made his way back to the tube, thinking about getting something to eat. His stomach growled in agreement at that and James grinned at the little lady standing next to him who seemed a little scandalized at the gurgling noises his stomach made.

Chinese take-out sounded good—James got off at the right station and took a quick detour to a little hole-in-the-wall place that had the best mushu pork. He got enough for everyone before heading back to the empty flat. Even if they weren't there to eat then, they would be hungry later and James didn't cook any more. He flat out refused.

The windows were thrown wide in an attempt to alleviate the sweltering heat and James sat down at the telly after changing into some cooler clothes with a carton of the pork and a set of chop sticks. He had just taken his first bite when the owl swooped in the window and landed sloppily on the back of the couch.

"What the bloody hell!?" Food crashed to the floor in James' desperate attempt to get away from the intruding bird. The owl blinked at him with big yellow eyes, scooting closer to him along the back of the couch.

"Shoo! You're not supposed to be in here!"

The owl puffed out its feathers at that, hooting morosely and scooting even closer to him. It bobbed up and down a few times, holding out one leg.

"Whatsamatter? Are you hurt?" James shifted from one foot to the other, watching the owl carefully. It stared at him unblinkingly. Only then did James notice the paper tied to its leg. "Er… Is that for me?"

The owl hooted, and hopped forward again. She extended her leg, looking at him expectantly.

"Right. I think I've spent too much time cooped up." James muttered, slowly reaching a hand out to the owl. It snapped at his fingers and he tripped backwards over the coffee-table as he jerked back. "Hey now! There's no need to be snippy! You want me to get that fucking thing off your leg or not!?"

The owl hooted again, spreading its wings and fluttering down to the floor between his splayed legs. It bobbed up and down a couple more times, extending its leg again.

Hesitantly, James reached out again. When the owl made no move to bite him he quickly untied the envelope from its leg. The owl hooted in approval—how James knew that was anyone's guess—and snatched a bite of the fallen mushu pork before flying back out the window.

"You have just entered the twilight zone." James muttered, standing up and straightening out his clothes. He grumbled at the mess that was supposed to be his lunch and briefly wondered if he could get away with eating the chow mein instead. But that was Dan's favorite—and he _had_ gotten it for him. And he couldn't stand the bloody fried rice—that was Thomas' favorite.

Shrugging, he finally turned his attention to the envelope in his hand. It was thick and heavy, made out of some sort of weird, thick paper. It was a letter—James' heart skipped a beat. It was addressed to him—but not really. It was addressed to the 'old' him.

_Mr. H. Potter  
The Top Bunk, Smallest Bedroom  
Apt. 32, 236 Grenadine Way  
London_

The words were written in green ink. James swallowed harshly—his hands shook as he turned the letter over. On the back was a purple wax seal with a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake were entwined around a large 'H.'

For a second, James wasn't sure if he wanted to open it. How would anyone even find him? With an owl, none-the-less. He'd done a lot of things that could be considered strange—but this was weird, even for him.

His hands were shaking by the time he finally broke the seal on the envelope, pulling out another piece of the thick, heavy paper. The same emerald ink swirled over the page—a letter head of some sort was on the top. It read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sarc, Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Potter,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
_Deputy Headmistress_

James wasn't sure what to make of the letter—or the enclosed list of supplies. But by far the biggest issue he was having was the fact that they knew his name—his real name. Whoever these people were could get him into a lot of trouble—and bring a lot of trouble for Dan and Lou.

He had to tell them.

James shoved the letter back into the envelope and shoved it into his pocket. He snatched his shoes up and was out the door in a second, trying to pull his shoes on as he stumbled down the stairs of the apartment building. He had to rush back up to grab his key and lock the door.

Then, he was flying down the street—knocking into people as he slipped down into the underground. A guard yelled at him when he jumped one of the turnstiles but he was already slipping into the doors as they were closing and the train started.

It was only three stops later—but it seemed to last forever. James ripped from the train as soon as the doors opened, sprinting up the stairs and onto the open street. HQ was a little over 12 blocks away from the station—and James knew the path well. He ran the whole way, nearly killing himself when he tripped over the railroad tracks—his palms were skinned to hell. Finally, the old upholstery building came into sight and he skidded to a halt by one of the doors.

It took a minute for someone to answer, and as soon as the door opened he was rushing across the floor, dodging the old machinery and ignoring the guys that were unloading crates.

"James!"

James stumbled to a standstill, looking around wildly until he spotted Lou standing with his arms crossed. The stern look disappeared when the boy rushed up to him, gasping for breath.

"What's wrong!? What happened?"

"I need to tell you something! Is Dan here?"

Lou nodded, wordlessly leading the way across the floor to the old office. James sprinted up the steps, leaving Lou to catch up as he burst through the door.

Dan jumped up from the desk when the door slammed open, gun already pointed at the intruders. He relaxed slowly, setting the gun back down on the desk.

"James? You're not supposed to be here."

James was shaking, rubbing both of his arms and noticing for the first time that he was wearing a t-shirt instead of his customary long sleeved shirt. His palms burned and were still bleeding, and his knees were torn up and blood was soaking through his jeans.

"I got a letter." James finally started, wiping his bloody palms on his shirt before fishing the letter out of his pocket. "It's addressed to 'Mr. H. Potter.' An owl brought it to me."

Dan just stared at him for a minute. "An owl? Wait—are you saying that someone knows who you are?"

James nodded, holding the letter out to Dan with shaking hands. Lou gently pushed him towards the couch and made him sit down before he disappeared into the bathroom. He came back with a wet towel and started cleaning off James' palms and knees.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" Dan snorted. "What is this shit?"

"You don't think—you don't think this has something to do with the Dursleys, do you?" James asked nervously. "I just saw them last week—and then this comes? But it was brought by a fucking owl!"

"You need to calm down." Dan snapped, throwing the letter down on his desk. He sighed, starting to pace. "Don't panic yet—I'll look into it."

"Maybe this has something to do with the 'other' people." Lou commented. "You know—the other one's like James."

"Those are my thoughts exactly." Dan muttered. He picked up the letter again, frowning. "What the fuck does this even mean? 'We await your owl by no later than July, 31?'"

Both James and Lou were silent at that. James was finally getting his breathing under control.

"I don't have to, right?" James was suddenly blinking back tears. "If it is real—this witch school—you won't just send me away, right?"

"Of course not." Lou said firmly. "You only have to go if you want to."

"I don't!"

"Hey, now. There will be no decisions made on this until we know what we're dealing with." Lou walked over and sat on the couch, throwing an arm around James. "If this is legit, just think about it. It means that there are more people out there with gifts like yours. What sort of things do you think you would learn at a school like that?"

"How should I know?"

"We'll look into it. If you really don't want to go, you don't have to. But if we find out that it's for real, I'm going to do my best to try and talk you into it. Carl would beat my ass if he found out I let you pass up an opportunity like this without trying my best to get you to take it."

"Carl?" James suddenly leapt to his feet. "What if I could learn how to help him!? I mean—when that car hit him I could fix everything except his brain, right? What if I could learn how to fix that too!?"

Dan and Lou exchanged a look. "That's possible—but I don't want you to get your hopes up too much. It was a very serious injury. There may not be a way to help him—even with this witchcraft and wizardry bit."

"I know that, but—if there is…" James hung his head, glancing up at Lou and Dan through his hair. "I have to help him if I can."

Both men remained silent for a long time. Lou went over to read the letter for himself.

"Call me crazy—but I think this is legit." Lou muttered when he finished reading. "It's almost too silly to be a prank—if I wanted to give a name to James' gift, I wouldn't call it witchcraft. I'd call it telekinesis, or something like that."

"It's magic." Dan muttered. His eyes were gleaming when he looked back at James. "Magic—that's what it is! Let me take a look at that list!"

James watched bemusedly as Dan went over the list with Lou.

"Standard Book of Spells, A History of Magic, Magical Theory—it's magic! These books are on magic! He's supposed to have a wand!" Dan's face suddenly fell. "Where the hell are we supposed to get a wand? Or a cauldron? I'm going to look into this… Those rumors had to come from something—I bet we can figure this out."

"I think I know what the 'owl thing' means." Lou muttered nervously. "If the letter came with an owl, maybe that's how they send letters? So if they're waiting for an owl from us…"

"…They're waiting for a reply—an RSVP!" Dan was pacing furiously. He suddenly grinned. "Don't worry about a thing—I know exactly who to talk to about this. We'll have this sorted out in no time."

James smiled as he watched Dan pacing back and forth. He wasn't nearly as worried as he had been. With a stretch, he laid back on the couch while Lou and Dan continued to talk over the letter.

"…Platform nine and three-quarters? There's a ticket—if this is a prank, it's either a really good one or a really bad one. It's not nearly believable enough, but at the same time that almost makes it more believable."

James grinned, letting the sounds of the conversation lull him to sleep.

* * *

The next three days were rather nerve-wracking. Thomas had been told of the letter, and was nearly as excited about the prospect as Dan.

Finding real information was hard though. Most of the people who had ever claimed to have seen something out of the ordinary seemed to have lost their memories of the event—and sometimes more besides.

Every lead Dan tracked down turned into a dead end—until the third day. One of Dan's old friends—now a loose business associate—gave them the name of a conspiracy theorist. A very paranoid conspiracy theorist.

Which was how James found himself in a crappy diner with Dan and a rather twitchy man who kept staring around in poorly concealed terror. The man was older—maybe in his fifties. His hair was greying, and he had several very prominent scars across his face. According to Dan's friend, the man's name was Harold.

"First, I want to know how you found me." The man asked quietly, his eyes darting all over the room before coming to rest first on Dan, then on James.

"I've been trying to find leads on magic." Dan replied quietly. He hesitated before pulling out James' Hogwarts letter. "You see, James got this letter—it was delivered by an owl. Except, we don't really know what it's about."

The man slowly reached out, snatching the letter up. His eyes started glowing when he read it, and his focus shifted completely on James. "You're one of them?"

"Er… I guess." James muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

"You can make things happen—strange things, unexplainable things—am I right?"

James nodded uncertainly.

"Okay—what you need to know about them magical folks is this. They're very quiet, secretive like. They don't want us non-magic folks knowing nothing 'bout them. They're careful—but not too careful. I know about them. But my first experience with them was a long time ago. It was one of them magical folks that did this." He motioned to the scars on his face. "I'll never forget that—this bloke was wearing this great billowing costume, dressed all in black. Except he had a mask on, a skull mask. And he wasn't the only one. Everything was going crazy—people were screaming. The guys in the masks had these sticks and were going around making things happen—casting spells as it were. Some were very bright, some not so bright, things were exploding—but most of 'em were saying words to make the spells happen. The bloke that got me—said this word 'Sectumsempra' and these cuts appeared all over my face and chest. Weren't no normal cuts, either. They burned like someone was rubbing lemon in them and setting them on fire."

Harold paused long enough to take a swig of his coffee. "Then, the other ones came. None of them had masks—they started fighting the ones with the masks and trying to help people. One of them poured this stuff on my wounds—nasty smelling stuff. They didn't heal up completely, but it was like they were suddenly two weeks old instead of fresh. Next thing I know, the men in the masks all start disappearing with loud pops—the other ones started rounding people up and casting spells on them. No one else I talked to that day remembered a thing—they were all kind of dazed, wandering around and not having a clue what had happened."

"Why didn't they get rid of your memories too?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not sure. I think I just got overlooked—there were a lot of people dead, and a lot of people injured. But I just kept my mouth shut about it. And I kept my eyes open. That was 'bout twelve years ago. There were a lot of incidences back then—I finally figured out what was happening. The magical world was in a war—and it was spilling over into our world, see?"

Dan arched an eyebrow. "Right. So—how do we get into this magical world? If this is all for real, there has to be some way for James to get into it, right?"

Harold nodded, his eyes wide. "I'll show you. Tomorrow, meet on me on Charing Cross Road—outside 'Cammings Book Shop.' Don't know the exact address—but it's around 3900. Be there just before noon—you'll be able to see it better when there's more people about."

"See what?"

"The passage, of course!" Harold grinned, standing up. He handed the letter back to Dan. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He was gone as fast as he came—slipping out of the diner and disappearing into the crowd outside.

"What do you think?" Dan asked slowly, throwing a couple notes on the table to pay for the coffee. They walked slowly out of the diner.

"I think he's nuts." James muttered. "But it's the best lead we got so far. Do you believe everything he told us?"

"I don't know—I think I'll make my decision after he's shown us this 'passage' tomorrow. What do you think?"

"I guess." James shrugged. It wasn't like they had anything to lose, right?

* * *

The next day came both too slow and too quickly for James—he woke up far earlier than he was used to after having a hard time falling asleep. He fished some clothes out of the pile on the floor—careful not to wake Thomas. After a long, hot shower he put his contacts in and made his way down the hall.

He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to getting to the bottom of this shit—or if he was ready to be disappointed again with another dead-end.

Dan was already awake too, slowly eating a bowl of cereal on the couch. "Hey. You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep." James muttered, plopping down next to the older man.

"Nervous?"

James shrugged. "I don't know—guess I'm just not sure what I'm hoping will happen. I can't figure out if I want this to be real, or if I want to finally figure out it's a load of shit."

"Hmm." Dan set his cereal bowl aside. "Well, we'll handle it whichever way it goes."

James nodded. The couch was very welcoming, and he allowed his head to fall back and his eyes to slip closed. "Wake me up when it's time."

Dan chuckled, patting him on the knee before getting up and taking his bowl into the kitchen. "We could always go grab some coffee or something—maybe hit some shops. Charing Cross Road is pretty neat."

"It's kind of posh, don't you think?"

Dan just shrugged. "A bit—but there are still some cool shops. It beats waiting around here."

There was no arguing with that little fact. James jumped up, running to find his shoes. When he had them on, Dan was standing by the door with his car keys and slipping his wallet into his back pocket. "Alright—let's go."

By the time noon rolled around, James was jumpy and exhausted. Dan kept a calming hand on his shoulder as they leaned against the wall outside of Cammings Book Shop, staring hard up both sides of the street for any sign of Harold. When the scarred man finally got there, the lunch rush in full swing.

"Right. I want you to look real careful at that patch of wall over there." Harold pointed. "Just between the book shop and the record shop."

James raised an eyebrow at the man, staring at the tiny, grubby little pub he was pointing at. "You're having us on! What's so special about a crap-hole pub!?"

"What!?" Harold simply blinked at him, turning back to stare at the pub. "A pub!?"

"Yeah." James rolled his eyes. "The Leaky Cauldron? That's real funny. You had your laugh. Let's go, Dan."

But Dan didn't move. "Um… James? I don't see a pub. All I see is a blank patch of wall."

James snorted, walking closer to the door of The Leaky Cauldron. He stepped aside just as a man walked out—he was wearing a bowler hat and a pin-striped suit, and shot James a nasty glare before walking off down the street.

"See that!? That man just came out of the wall!" Harold pointed out.

"No! He just came out of the door of the pub. You really can't see that?" James snorted. "Some portal to the magical world—this is bloody ridiculous!"

Dan slowly walked up to where James was standing right outside the door. "I can't see anything but a wall."

James shook his head, walking through the doorway and into the pub. The inside was much more interesting than the outside—James felt a thrill as he looked around the bustling place and was hit by the _strangeness_ of it all. The pub itself was dark and shabby—and nothing really special in James' opinion. It was the people that were extraordinary.

"Bloody hell…" James muttered, shifting uncomfortably as he watched a man behind the bar pouring drinks and directing them to float throughout the room with a long, narrow stick. A man wearing a long, frumpy dress-looking thing was weaving through the tables with a handful of bags floating obediently behind him. The fireplace was empty, but suddenly flared to life with green flames and a woman came spinning into view, stumbling slightly as she stepped out of the bright green flames and brushed the soot from her clothes. The empty tables were cleaning themselves, a bucket full of soapy water easily dodging the patrons as it followed the animated rag around.

James swallowed thickly, glancing back towards the door. Dan was still on the outside, pale and shaking—his eyes were wide and he was still staring at the door that apparently looked like nothing more than a brick wall. Shaking off his nervousness, James slowly weaved his way up to the bar. The bartender beamed at him—showing off his lack of teeth.

"How are you doing, sonny?"

"Pretty good, sir. And you?"

"I'm doing all right. Business is good—that's all I can ask for these days." The man was balding. "I'm Tom—I own the joint. This your first time to Diagon Alley?"

James nodded dumbly.

"You're a Muggle-born then? That's all right. Ol' Tom is glad to point you in the right direction. You'll have to wait for someone with a wand to let you through the doorway out back—if you give me a minute, I'll take you myself. Just let me serve this next round of drinks."

James nodded again, smiling slightly as he watched the man expertly pour a handful of drinks that were smoking slightly—they whisked off on their own when the man waved his wand at them. Two men at the bar threw down a couple coins—gold from the look of them—and Tom set a new bottle in front of them. The label read 'Ol' Odgens Firewhiskey.'

"That should do it—come along, laddy."

Tom led him out of the back door, into a dead-end alley. Before James could quirk an eyebrow, however, Tom was counting out bricks on the back wall. "Three up, two across. Remember that. Then, you tap three times."

The old man did just that, and James watched in awe as the tapped brick started quivering, wriggling and writhing until a small hole appeared in the middle. The hole grew wider and wider and in hardly the time it took for James to take a breath, it was a large archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley." Tom grinned at James' shocked look. "You'll probably want to head to Gringotts first—exchange some Muggle money for wizarding money. It's the big white building up ahead—you can't miss it."

James smiled shyly. "I don't actually have any money today. I was just curious about the place—I'll be coming back to do my shopping in a couple days."

Tom grinned again. "Nothing wrong with that. Here!" Tom fished in his pocket and pulled out a couple of silver coins—he held them out to James. "Go treat yourself to some ice-cream—Fortescue's makes the best ice-cream you'll ever find."

"Thank you."

Tom disappeared back into the pub, and James slowly walked through the archway. He whipped around to watch it close behind him and swallowed thickly before he turned to look at Diagon Alley. The nearest shop had a flashing sign floating in front of it. 'Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible.' In front of the shop a great pile of cauldrons were gleaming in the sun.

James turned his attention to the silver coins in his hand—he was trying to make sense of it all. The portal to the wizarding world was a pub—and it lead to a shopping district? It was so incredibly _bizarre_.

But it made sense in a weird way. It wasn't like they could just have a cauldron shop in the middle of London where people could see it if they were trying to stay secret, right?

And what the bloody hell was a Muggle!? James shook his head, sticking the coins in his pocket and heading further down the alley. Tom had called him a Muggle-born, then referred to Muggle money—that had to be pounds, right? James furrowed his eyebrow and had to side-step a plump woman coming out of the Apothecary, shaking her head and muttering "Dragon liver, eleven Sickles an ounce, they're mad…"

'Muggle must mean non-magic.' James decided internally as he meandered down the road, taking his time and surveying everything carefully. Eeylops Owl Emporium was a dark shop—James could hear the low, soft hooting and peaked through the door as he passed. The walls were lined with owls of all shapes and sizes.

"This is kind of awesome." James muttered, stopping outside of a shop with broomsticks in the window. A few boys that looked a little older than him were pressed against the glass, staring at the brooms with unrestrained awe. "The new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever—" The shop directly across from the broom shop was advertising a sale on bat spleens and eel's eyes.

James scrunched his nose at that. What the hell did they do with things like that?

The people were even stranger than the shops. Some of them were wearing pointed hats, and most of them were wearing ankle-length, long-sleeved dresses—even the men! James snorted, shaking his head. Dan was probably getting impatient, but he figured he might as well look around some more before heading back. The excitement over the discovery was quickly fading, and instead a whole slew of questions popped up.

James made a note of the post office—chances were he'd be using that to send the RSVP back to Hogwarts. Gringotts was incredibly obvious—it was huge and the snowy white building towered over the other shops. There was a very creepy little man right outside, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold. He was shorter than James, had a sort of scrunched up face with a pointed beard and pointed teeth. He grinned viciously when he caught James staring.

James quickly looked away, surveying the surrounding shops and listening intently to the conversations taking place around him. His eyes narrowed on a family of three people that stuck out rather obviously—they were dressed like the normal, everyday people that James was familiar with. A girl James' age was listening, enthralled to a severe-looking older woman that was wearing a deep-green dress and had her hair pulled into a tight bun.

"…this is our bank, Gringotts. It is run by the Goblin Nation. You'll find there is hardly a safer place in the world than Gringotts. In the future, you will likely open an account there. In the meantime, that is where you will exchange your money. I'll explain more about the money when we're inside…"

Just like that, they were out of hearing range and sweeping up the steps to the bank. The strange little man—the _goblin_—bowed to them as they passed into the bronzed doors.

And just like that, James had enough—it was too much, too fast. He turned on his heal and made his way back out of the alley—he had to wait for about ten minutes before someone came along and opened the archway. Tom was too busy dealing with another rush to notice him slipping through.

Dan and Harold were huddled across the street, staring nervously at the wall. They jumped when James came back out, and Dan darted across the street to take his arm.

"Did you have a nice little trip? Could have warned me you were going to disappear right in front of my eyes."

"What's it like on the other side!?" Harold appeared just behind Dan, eyes flicking to the stretch of wall that hid The Leaky Cauldron from view.

"It's a pub—but you go behind the pub to get to this place called Diagon Alley." James explained, leading the way down the road towards the parking garage that Dan had parked in. "I talked to the bartender a bit—he showed me how to get through the alley. You have to tap on a certain brick and an archway opens up! It was incredible! And Diagon Alley has all these shops in it—there's a Broom Shop, An Owl Shop, A Cauldron Shop—and they have their own money!" James fished a couple coins out of his pocket and showed them to Dan and Harold. "There's a bank—it's run by Goblins! Seriously—bloody _Goblins_! I'll have to go there to exchange money to buy the stuff on my list. But there's a post office—so I can send the letter to Hogwarts."

"Wait a minute!" Harold snarled. "You're telling me that the portal to the magical world is a pub—and that there's another magic portal in the back that leads to—what—a shopping center!?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. I could take you in there, you know. I saw a family getting a guided tour—the girl was my age and from a non-magic family, I think. They call us Muggle-borns. Muggle means non-magic."

"No!" Harold looked highly affronted. "I'm not going to go poking around and give them the chance to mess with my head!"

Dan shifted awkwardly, fixing James with a stare. "I'm not too sure about going in either."

"Right. Whatever. I'll go back on my own later."

Dan nodded, motioning towards the parking garage they were still standing in front of. Harold was muttering to himself as he walked away. "I'm sorry, Jamie. It's just—they know who you are. They'll start asking questions if you show up with me—"

"I understand." James rolled his eyes. "Honestly, it's not a big deal. But I'm going to need some money if I really am going to this school."

"Of course." Dan sighed heavily as they walked up the stairs to the third level of the parking garage. "Maybe Thomas will go with you—help you case the place. You'll probably want to keep your name to yourself if you can."

"I will. No one asked me questions as it is. I don't think it'll be a problem. The old barkeep didn't even ask me why I was alone." James shrugged, climbing into the car when Dan unlocked it. He fished a pack of smokes out of the glove compartment and quickly lit one up.

"You know, you're probably going to have to quit if you do go to this school."

"Like hell I will! I'm more than sneaky enough not to get caught, and you know that!"

"I certainly do." Dan scrunched his nose. "All the same—it wouldn't do to get chucked out before you really got started, would it?"

"I guess." James frowned, taking a deep drag from the cigarette and holding the smoke in for a few seconds. He breathed out heavily. "I'm not really looking forward to this, you know? Spending months away at some boarding school surrounded by a bunch of posh snobs—it better be worth it. If it's not, I'm not going back."


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter 3

James' pocket was stuffed with several hundred pounds, he had his book list in his back pocket and an empty backpack over his shoulder. The tube was crowded—but being that it was a Saturday, it was kind of a given. Thomas was standing by him, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

"Don't worry. No one cares. Seriously, I saw other Muggle people there. It'll be fine."

"I'm not sure I like that—being called Muggle. It seems kind of—I don't know—prejudiced, don't you think?"

James nodded. "Yeah. But I can't very well start talking about non-magic people in the middle of a crowded subway car."

A few people nearby stared at James for a minute, and he pointedly raised an eyebrow at Thomas.

"Touché."

They got off at the right station, and James steadily led the way down the busy street—Thomas stayed close to his side as they approached the little pub.

"This is going to be really freaky, isn't it?" Thomas asked dejectedly when James grabbed his arm and started towards The Leaky Cauldron.

"Probably." James shrugged, pulling the older boy through the door. He grinned at Thomas' gasp, and looked around curiously. The pub was packed—people flitting around and the magic was so thick it practically made the air buzz. James sighed—the feeling was like coming home. He was very familiar with the feel of his own magic—but it was something else to feel it in the air as a tangible presence that just _belonged_.

"Right. We have to go out back." James pulled on Thomas' arm, leading the boy through the crowded space and into the dingy alley Tom had shown him before—even as the other boy was still gaping at the varying floating objects and the people coming out of the fireplace. They only had to wait for a minute before someone came through, and a second later they were walking through the archway into Diagon Alley.

"Right. So—I already warned you about the goblins right. They're bloody weird as hell. But I don't think they like being stared at all that much." James mumbled as he lead Thomas easily down the street, dodging around the slower moving groups.

"Jamie? Why is _everyone_ wearing a dress?" Thomas asked quietly.

"You know—I'm not sure they're dresses. My list says I need robes for school. They sure look like dresses though."

Further conversation was halted as they approached the gleaming white marble building. James nodded stoically to the gobbling that was guarding the door, and the goblin nodded in return. Thomas' eyes went wide, and he quickly looked down at the ground as they shuffled by into the bank. There was a second set of doors—silver instead of bronze. A poem of some sort was engraved on the door, but neither boy paid it much attention.

"Right. Well, I guess we just go on in then?" James was trying not to be nervous. But it was really hard when he had no clue what to expect. Not only that, but the usual edge he had when he was going into an unknown situation didn't exist in a place where _everyone_ could do magic.

With a deep breath, he pushed through the doors and stepped into Gringotts for the first time.

There were goblins everywhere—as well as plenty of people waiting in cues at the counter. James shifted nervously again, slowly approaching a goblin in uniform.

"Er… Hello. I—um… that is… I need to switch some Muggle money."

The goblin sneered at him, showing off his pointed teeth and pointed towards the farthest counter. James nodded. "Thanks."

Thomas was jostling him, he was so close as they walked across the floor to the furthest counter. The goblin working this counter looked distinctly older—if the increased lines in his already wrinkly face were anything to go by.

"Hello. I need to change these." James explained, hurriedly pulling out the wad of notes from his pocket and setting them on the counter. "And err… If you could explain how wizard money works, that would be great."

The goblin blinked at him, before picking up the rather large wad of bills and counting it out so fast James couldn't really keep track of it. The goblin reached under the counter, pulling out a large metal box and started counting out coins.

"The gold ones are Galleons." The goblins voice was low and growling. "The silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts. 29 Knuts are equal to one Sickle, and 17 Sickles are equal to one Galleon. Got that?"

James nodded, watching the goblin quickly start counting out the different coins.

"456 Muggle pounds comes out to 112 Galleons, 9 Sickles and 14 Knuts." The goblin swept the counted coins into a small bag and passed it over the counter. "Will that be all?"

"Er… Yes. Thank you." James stared at the small bag in awe, slipping it into his backpack and pulling on Thomas' arm to start out of the bank.

"What do we do next?" Thomas whispered as they left the bank, sidestepping a large group of redheads that were walking up the marble stairs.

"I have no idea. I don't know if that's going to be enough or what… I don't even know what places are best. I saw at least three shops that sell cauldrons and four bookshops."

"Maybe we should split up and look around." Thomas suggested, glancing up and down the street. "We meet back here in an hour to see where we should go."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah." Thomas grinned. "Can't be anything more shocking than the bank, right?"

James laughed, looking down the street. "Right. So, you go that way, I'll go this way—and we meet back up at 2:00. Sound good?"

"Excellent. Stay out of trouble, now."

"I make no promises." James grinned, sticking his tongue out and sticking his hands in his pocket as he started down the street. He made note of the wand shop—Ollivanders—and shops that sold quills and parchment—there was a 'Magical Menagerie' and several more bookshops, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments that James couldn't even guess at the use.

A little ways down, a small gate caught his eye. It was between two buildings, and a crooked sign above it read 'Knockturne Alley.' James shrugged, glancing up and down the street a second time before slipping into the gate and treading into the alley—the cobblestones under his feet were older and cracking, and the shops on this street were run down and dirty.

'Of course there has to be a bad part of town—even in the magical world.' James thought to himself. He wasn't very worried though. He'd grown up running the streets after all. This was downright upscale compared to some of the places he'd been. Another bookshop caught his eye, this one advertising 'the lowest prices on used books!' James grinned, slipping into the shop and glancing around at the rows and rows of shelves that stretched straight up to the ceiling. He'd spend days in there looking for everything he needed.

"Hello, deary."

James jumped, whirling around to look at the woman that was behind the counter. At least, he thought it was a woman. He couldn't be sure—she was wearing a long cloak with the hood pulled low over her face. The voice sounded feminine at least. "Hello ma'am."

"Not lost, are you dear?"

James shook his head. "Just exploring a bit. Don't really know the best places to shop yet."

The woman laughed—cackled really. "Well, you best be warned now. Knockturne Alley isn't the most friendly of places. It's pretty dangerous, actually. Especially for kids wandering by themselves."

"I'm not worried. I've been in some pretty sketchy places before. All you really have to do is keep your head down and your eyes open." James glanced at the nearest shelves. "Do you have school books in here?"

The woman walked out from behind the counter, grabbing a lantern and motioning him to the back wall. "First year? I think I'm stocked on all the first year books… Here… Let me have a look at your list…"

James fished the list out of his pocket, holding it up for her to read while she scoured the shelf of books.

The woman's sleeve slipped up her arm as she reached up to start pulling books down. James caught sight of cracked, blistered skin and winced slightly. That looked incredibly painful.

"… _Standard Book of Spells_—I've got a joined version, Grades 1-3… _A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration… A History of Magic_… _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_… _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_…" She pulled each book down as she found it, setting them on a small tray that appeared out of nowhere and hovered just over James' head. "_Magical Drafts and Potions_… _Magical Theory_… It appears I don't have _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Preservation_… But that's to be expected, what with Hogwarts getting a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor every year."

"That's okay." James muttered, staring at the large stack of books. "This is a great start! Thanks! Do you have any books about the magical world—things Muggle-borns should know?"

The woman whipped around to stare at him. "Keep your voice down! You shouldn't be announcing that you're one of those—not here!"

James took a step back. "Oh. Why not?"

"There's folks that don't like Muggles—and especially not Muggle-borns. You'd do well to keep that information to yourself."

Before James could ask any more questions, the woman was moving off through the shelves. "Here—this should explain some of that. It's important to understand the politics, otherwise you're likely to get yourself into trouble. Here's a book on Wizarding laws… A guide to resources in Wizarding Britain… That should be good to start off with…"

James nodded, eyes growing wider at the large stack of books. He wasn't sure he could fit those all in his backpack.

"Ah! You should also read this one… _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_… That'll answer a lot of your questions about Muggles…"

"Er… I'm not sure I can carry all of these." James interjected, motioning to the backpack on his back.

"Oh. Well that's just fine, deary. I could shrink them for you—or I can hold them for you if you'd rather run up the street and buy yourself a better bag. Jiggers' Knacks gives a pretty good deal. It would be wise for you to get one anyways, what with going off to Hogwarts. Get a bag with an undetectable expansion charm inside. They're a bit on the pricey side, but worth it. Tell old Jiggers that Gren sent you."

"Er… Alright. Thanks! I'll be back in a few minutes!" James smiled at the woman, slipping out of the shop and continuing down the street. A glance at his watch showed that he had little over an hour left before he was supposed to meet Thomas again.

Jiggers' Knacks was crowded from floor to ceiling with _junk_. An old man missing an eye stared at him as he gazed around the store. "Er… Hi. I need a new bag—one that's expanded on the inside. Gren sent me."

The old man lit up a bit. "Right. I've got a couple here… Let's see." The old man moved through the shop, nearly toppling several of the piles as he reached for a stack of leather bags. James sneezed when the man shook a cloud of dust off of one of them, and opened the flap to look inside.

"Right—this one here is a medium sized one. It's long enough for a broom, deep enough for a—well, we could fit you in here several times over if we needed to. It's got a feather-light charm on it as well, so it won't get heavy. Will that do, sonny?"

James nodded, reaching out to touch the bag.

"That'll be 2 Galleons and 16 Sickles."

James blinked for a minute, trying to remember what the goblin told him about the money. Slowly, he fished out three of the gold coins and handed them to the man, waiting to get a sickle back in exchange. The man chuckled, tossing a silver coin at him and handing over the bag. "Go buy all the books you can carry."

And James practically ran back down the street to do just that.

* * *

Severus Snape had seen a lot in his life—so much so that very few things fascinated him anymore. Potions was one of those things—with limitless possibilities for discovery, improvement—if you tried hard enough, were dedicated enough and had just a little bit of intuition and creativity there was very little to keep you from reaching the stars.

Metaphorically, of course.

Which was why Severus spent the majority of his summer holidays in a stifling upstairs room in Wings, Stings and Things Apothecary—with only a grimy window offering an even grimier view of Knockturne Alley.

The potion he was currently working on was brewing—needed to brew for a couple hours before he could move onto the next stage. Severus had just been planning on starting another potion when he'd noticed the kid in the street.

It was a little boy—at least, Severus was fairly certain it was a boy. The long hair and slim figure could have gone either way, but the Muggle clothes most definitely belonged to a boy. He had emerged from Gren's Book Nook a few minutes earlier and had strolled steadily up the street and disappeared into Jiggers' Knacks Pawn Shop.

Normally, there weren't any kids in Knockturne Alley. And when there were, they were most definitely guarded closely by their parents.

So, it was rather strange to see a kid—probably a first year—by himself.

A few minutes later, the kid emerged from Jiggers' Knacks and raced back down the street to the Book Nook, a leather bag hanging from his shoulder. Severus was willing to bet the bag had several expandable charms and a feather-light charm. He smiled wryly—at least one of the cretins coming into Hogwarts the next year would be opening a book—few kids got that excited over books.

Another twenty minutes later, the kid walked out of the bookstore with Gren at his shoulder. He was talking animatedly to the old Hag, and seemed not the least bit perturbed. Gren was nodding occasionally, and Severus noted that her shoulders shook with laughter.

That was strange in and of itself. Gren was not very friendly.

Gren waved the boy off, and he started up the street—deeper into Knockturne Alley. That got Severus' attention, and he finally resigned himself to having to intervene and direct this kid back to a safer place.

The sun beat down on him the moment he stepped out of the Apothecary, and Severus casually swept his sweaty hair away from his forehead. He muttered a cooling charm over his black robes, nodding to Gren where she was peeking out of the window of her bookshop, staring down where the kid had disappeared to.

Severus set off down the street, eyes darting back and forth as he looked for the child that would stick out like a sore thumb—both because of his age and because of his Muggle clothes.

"Severus."

Severus quirked an eyebrow as Lucius Malfoy stepped out of Borgin and Burkes wearing rather atrocious sky blue robes that made his grey eyes shine like steel. "Lucius."

"I just saw a child go walking by."

"I know. I was going to give him _directions_." Severus replied shortly. "Hopefully before he runs into Greyback, or one of his pack."

Lucius nodded, a sneer twisting his aristocratic face. "He was dressed like a Muggle."

"I'm aware of that."

"Are you sure you shouldn't just leave him to the wolves?" The blonde man looked pointedly up the street, where the alley narrowed and twisted out of sight.

"I'm sure. Granted, I might let him get knocked around for a bit so he learns his lesson not to come down here again." Severus chuckled darkly, quirking an eyebrow when Lucius fell into step beside him.

"I do enjoy a little sport every now and again." Lucius waved his hand airily, cane clicking on the cobbled stones in pace with each carefully measured step. "Though, it does raise questions when a _Professor_ is willing to let a potential student come to harm."

"The hot stove teaches best." Severus quipped. They rounded the corner, easily catching sight of the boy that was peering curiously into the windows as he walked, a leather bag slung over his shoulder and his hands buried in his pockets. The kid nodded to a grizzled man leaning against a wall, fidgeting slightly when the man just stared at him with his arms crossed. Further down the street, another man stepped out in front of the kid, causing him to come to a halt.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing all the way down here?" Greyback's voice carried easily down the alley, the werewolf practically growling when the kid immediately started to back away. Quick as lightning, Greyback had a hold of one of his arms. "Don't be like that—I just want to play." His smile turned feral, and he shook his grey mane out of his face.

"Wait! Please! Don't hurt me!"

Severus quickened his pace slightly when the boy cowered and started begging—Fenrir was going to eat this kid for dinner.

"Now, where would you get an idea like that? I wouldn't hurt a pretty little thing like you." The gleam in Fenrir's eyes said otherwise, even as he loosened his vice-like grip on the kid and reached out to touch his face.

The boy struck quickly and with a vengeance—the second the grip on him faltered he shot out with a left-hook and nailed the werewolf right in the balls. As the man howled and doubled over, the kid brought his knee up into the man's face and stomped hard on his foot.

Severus watched stunned as the kid turned and sprinted back down the alley, flying past him and out of sight. He shared a glance with Lucius, noting the smirk on the blonde's face.

"That was well-done." Lucius conceded delicately. "Very well-played. I do believe that child will soon be one of your snakes."

Severus glanced back at Fenrir—the werewolf was snarling at one of his buddies, blood gushing from his nose and still clutching his nether-regions protectively. "You seem to be losing your touch Greyback. I do believe you just got your arse handed to you by an eleven year old without a wand."

"Fuck you!"

Severus chuckled, turning away from the scene and following Lucius back up the street.

Lucius was practically giddy. "You know, if all Muggle-borns were so equipped, I would have a lot less qualms about accepting them into the fold. That was nefariously cunning."

"Indeed." Severus agreed, carefully surveying Knockturne Alley for any sign of the boy. His curiosity was peaked, and he didn't have anything pressing to attend to. "I think I'm going to follow him. Would you like to accompany me?"

"Certainly. I always welcome extra entertainment."

The two men walked sedately to Diagon Alley, subtly searching the crowds for the mop of black hair—they caught sight of the boy in front of Gringotts, shifting from one foot to the other and staring further up the street as if waiting for someone. They shifted closer, and Severus cast an eavesdropping charm on the boy—the boy stiffened, scratching the back of his neck and looking around suspiciously.

"That's strange." Severus muttered. "I think he sensed my charm."

"That is strange." Lucius agreed, silently tapping into the charm when another boy approached.

"How'd it go?" The second boy was older—quite obviously a Muggle. Severus muttered a silent 'thank you' that he hadn't accompanied the younger boy to Knockturne. That would have been a disaster.

"It went okay—got most of my books and a new bag. It's pretty awesome! It's like, a gazillion times bigger on the inside than it is on the outside."

"That's fucking sweet! Really!? I bet Lou and Dan could make good use of things like that."

"Yeah. I found this place called Knockturne Alley—kind of sketchy. Some fucking pervert tried to make a grab at me. I'm glad you weren't with me, though. Turns out there's a lot of people here that really don't like Muggle people."

Severus snorted quietly. 'Muggle people?' He'd obviously misinterpreted the phrase. Lucius looked vaguely amused as well.

"Yeah—I think I picked up on that. Someone gave you trouble? What happened? It's not like you could just do your thing and shrink his knickers, or anything like that. The people here would just dish it right back out."

"Nah—I gave him the ol' helpless, scared 'please don't hurt me' routine."

"That's a classic. Works every time. I followed around another family of Muggle people—they were getting a tour. You know, I found out that the school sends the teachers out to show other Muggle-borns around. Why didn't they send anyone for you, James?"

James. They had a name to go with.

"Beats me—probably not important enough to earn that privilege." James shrugged. "I mean—I'm a nobody, right?"

"That's bullocks—what if you hadn't been able to find this place? Would they have even cared if you didn't answer your letter? I mean—not everyone knows someone with Dan's connections."

"I guess it's just an 'oh well! Sucks to be you." James shrugged. "Doesn't matter though. We did find it."

"Yeah. So. You got some books then? Nerd."

"Hey! I've got a lot to learn about the magical world before I go to school. How else am I going to figure out everything? Don't want to make an arse out of myself. Eww! But that means I'm actually going to have to buy those bloody dresses if I want to fit in, huh?"

Severus bit his lip to keep from chuckling when the boy looked around in obvious distaste—green eyes landed on Lucius. "Thomas! Check out blondie! I think that's the prettiest man I've ever seen!"

The grip Lucius had on his cane tightened noticeably.

"Now Lucius. I know you would dearly love to march over there and give them a piece of your mind—need I remind you we're at a very public venue and you would give the game away if you did."

Lucius didn't say anything, instead focusing on what the boys were saying.

"Oh! Did you see that guy! I swear, he's got to be a bloody fairy! Not as pretty as Barbie over there… but still…"

Severus coughed violently to cover up the giggles at Lucius being dubbed 'Barbie.'

"What is so funny?"

"You don't want to know." Severus shook his head.

"Check out Barbie's friend though—that's more like it! Nananana-Nananana-Nananana-Nananana—Batman!" James giggled. "That's fucking awesome! I wouldn't mind dressing like that."

Severus choked slightly, chancing a glance over at the two boys that were studying him closely. He couldn't decide whether he should be annoyed or not—on the one hand they thought he looked like freaking Batman, on the other they thought he looked 'fucking awesome.'

At the same time, he was somewhat concerned that this 'James' kid cursed so readily. That was going to be a problem. But the bigger issue was that apparently James was a Muggle-born and Hogwarts had failed to send a professor to help ease him into the wizarding world.

Even more worrisome—the kid had found it on his own, with the help of _Muggles_.

It was incredibly dangerous that the information was out there if someone had the resources to look properly. Lucius seemed to follow his line of thought.

"Has that ever happened before—a Muggle-born being overlooked like that?"

"Not that I know of." Severus frowned. "I'll have to check with Minerva."

"I don't like that they were able to find us so easily without being told how." Lucius muttered, eyes flicking towards the two boys that were giggling over a rather robust wizard that—according to them—looked like he was expecting the way his 'dress' draped over his round belly.

"There have been leaks before, Lucius. We know this. During the last war, I'm sure a lot of Muggles slipped through the cracks."

"All the same." Lucius shook his head. "What is 'Barbie?'"

Severus wasn't quite fast enough to suppress his own giggle.

"Did you just giggle!?"

"If you knew about Barbie and understood the reference, you would giggle too. Granted, knowing that they're comparing _you_ to a girl's doll that epitomizes the supposedly _perfect_, _idealistic_, _unobtainable_ image of the female body—well—you probably won't see the humor in it."

Lucius' glare said better than words that he definitely saw no humor in the comparison.

"What about you, Batman?"

"Batman is a Muggle superhero—he flies around in a stylized bat costume and takes down criminals." Severus explained, grinning slightly and turning his attention back to the boys that were slowly moving down the street.

"…wand first. I can't wait to get my hands on one of those! I don't get how I'll need it, though. I mean—what's the difference in magic with a wand and magic without one? I asked the woman in the book shop but she just told me that magic couldn't really be done without a wand, then laughed at me when I tried to tell her that I could do it without one."

Severus exchanged a look with Lucius. This boy was getting more interesting by the second.

"That's stupid." The older boy—Thomas—replied. "You've been doing it without a wand for years. Ask the wand maker—I bet he'd know."

"I will. But right after this we have to go to the post office to send an Owl. I already wrote the letter."

The eavesdropping spell ended when the boys disappeared into Ollivander's and Severus turned to face Lucius. "That was—enlightening."

"I'd say. I'm really interested to see where this child came from—if he really is a Muggle-born, his letter would have said as much. Am I right? Then, someone would have hand-delivered the letter and taken him shopping."

"I know. Which means he might not be a Muggle-born. Maybe he's from a wizarding family but was raised by Muggles—and he's not had contact with any of his magical family." Severus shook his head, trying to remember if he'd seen a James on the list of incoming students. He didn't think he had—but there were over a sixty names on the list. He'd been more focused on the familiar names. "I'll look into it. If he is a Muggle-born that got overlooked, we'll have to fix that."

"Hm." Lucius shook his head. "Let me know what you find out. I'd like to keep an eye on his progress through the years, at the very least. He seems like he has a lot of potential."

"I'll keep you updated." Severus agreed, glancing down at his watch. "I have a potion brewing."

"Of course. Stop by for dinner sometime. Narcissa wants to have you, and Draco wants to pester you about brewing."

"I will. Give Narcissa and Draco my best."


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter 4

James stumbled out of the wand shop almost an hour after he'd first gone in—his new wand was safe in his bag. Thomas slipped out after him, letting out his breath in a whoosh.

"You know when I said there couldn't be anything freakier than the bank? I was wrong."

"I know. He was creepy. How the hell did he know my name!?" James shuddered, glancing over his shoulder and jumping when he noticed Mr. Ollivander standing in the window watching him, his pale eyes unblinking. "Let's go somewhere else."

Thomas didn't argue as James pushed his way through the crowd, finally coming to a halt outside an Apothecary.

"What was all that shit about your scar? 'The one whose wand gave you that scar...' There's something really freaky going on here, Jamie."

"I know. I'm glad that's over with at the least." James realized he was trembling, and patted down on his hair to make sure his scar was hidden. "And what the fuck is the deal with this 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' thing? What can be so bad about a bloody name?"

"Maybe you can find out from those books—since we're at it, why don't we hit up some more of the bookstores and see if we can't get some more books that will help you figure these things out."

"Maybe…" James shook his head, heading towards the nearest book store—Flourish and Blotts. He nearly turned around and walked right back out again when he saw the gleaming books in front of him. He'd much rather buy used. However, he was drawn to a large display advertising 'The Top Ten Books All Muggle-borns Should Read!' He was pleased to note that he'd already bought three of the books on the display—and for a fraction of the price. The others seemed kind of ridiculous, but he made a note of a couple of the titles to look for in the used book shop. _Modern Magical History_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ were probably good bets.

"Hey—Jamie… Take a look at this." Thomas suddenly thrust a newspaper in front of his face, and he startled a bit before taking it. The first thing he noticed was the moving pictures—that was just bizarre.

The second thing he noticed was the article on the first page—it was about Hogwarts incoming students. There were a lot of speculations being made about which child of some important person would go into what house, what children were expected to be top of the class, blah, blah, blah…

"It's lower." Thomas pointed out. "Thought you might find that interesting."

"What the hell." James exchanged a look with Thomas. "I think we should call it a day, don't you?"

"I think so. You gonna buy the paper? It looks interesting."

"Yeah. One second." James grabbed the two books he had been eye-balling. So what if they cost more—he could always get more money from Dan. With that in mind, he slipped to the section labeled 'Hogwarts: First Year' and found the last text he needed. The woman working the counter smiled widely at him as he paid her for the three books and the paper. He stashed them in his satchel and pulled Thomas out of the door.

"Right. I just gotta hit the post office, then we'll go back to the flat."

Thomas nodded. "Great. Can't wait to find out what all that's about."

It was a pretty quick trip back to the flat after they got out of Diagon Alley. It was the first time James didn't have to wait for someone to pass to get through the hidden archway back into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom saw him and waved, grinning widely. James waved back, but didn't stop to chat. Thomas seemed glad of that.

Back at the flat, James made quick work of pulling out all his books and spreading them over the coffee table. Lou and Dan watched with interest.

"Sheesh, James. Gonna start your own library?" Dan teased, picking up the first book. "_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. That sounds brilliant."

"Stop that—that's not what I need to show you." James found the newspaper, spreading it out and locating the part of the article about Harry Potter.

"...however no new student is met with more excitement that Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived will be entering Hogwarts this year. It will be his first time back in the public eye since he unknowingly defeated You-Know-Who when he was a baby. As many of us already know, Harry Potter was made famous when the Dark Lord tried to kill him when he was just one year old, and instead was vanquished in the process. Harry Potter is the only person known to have survived the killing curse—the only sign that he was touched by the deadly curse is the jagged scar on his forehead. The professors at Hogwarts are tight-lipped about Harry Potter's whereabouts for the past ten years. Headmaster Dumbledore in particular is adamant that Mr. Potter remain out of the spot light, something the Daily Prophet fully respects…" James trailed off as the article went in a different direction about some girl named Susan bones, whose aunt was in Magical Law Enforcement or something like that.

"Wait!" Lou held up a hand. "What does that even mean!?"

"I don't know!" James shook his head, rubbing the scar on his forehead. "I don't know at all! It doesn't make any sense!"

Dan took the paper, reading over the article carefully. "It's saying you vanquished a Dark Lord—this You-Know-Who—when you were a baby."

"How the bloody hell could I have possibly done that!?" James snatched up _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, flipping through the index. To his absolute horror, the name Potter, Harry was actually referenced. "I'm in this book!"

Thomas snatched up another book—_Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_—and flipped to the index. After a bit of searching, he looked back up. "Same with this one."

"This is crazy!" Dan snatched up another book, _Modern Magical History_ and started flicking through it. After a few minutes, he looked up with a sigh. "Yeah. You're mentioned in this one too."

"Well. Fuck." James leaned back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. "We'd better start reading, huh? Figure out who I am in the magical world."

"Yeah." Dan agreed, flipping back in the book. "And we have to figure out who this Dark Lord is—I can't find his name! It's all 'You-Know-Who' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!'

"And Jamie is the 'Boy-Who-Lived'" Thomas pointed out. "They're awful at coming up with names, aren't they?"

"Voldemort." James muttered, frowning down at _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_. "Lord Voldemort—he was a Dark Lord. This says he killed my parents, and for some reason when he tried to kill me the curse backfired on him. He disappeared, and no one's seen him since. It says the entire wizarding world celebrates me as their savior."

"What I don't get is why Jamie was with the Dursleys." Lou suddenly interjected. "If he's so important, then why did they just abandon him?"

No one had a proper answer for that.

"You'll have to be really careful—make sure no one connects you to us. I don't want Thomas going back there with you. The last thing we need is the magical world clamoring for our blood because we kidnapped their savior." Dan muttered darkly. "I have a feeling they won't care whether our intentions were good if they were heartless enough to abandon you to those people."

James nodded, narrowing his eyes at the text. "And I suppose you don't want this Voldemort guy's followers to come after you either—this says they're still out there."

"Right. If you get found out, you don't know us." Dan tossed the book back on the coffee table and left the living room.

* * *

It took James a few days to work up the guts to go back to Diagon Alley—he'd learned just about all he possibly could from the books, and had a very good idea about where exactly he fit into the magical world—and he was absolutely terrified that someone was going to recognize him. And on top of that, he was having nightmares—the same nightmare over and over actually. In it, he'd hear cold, high-pitched laughter and a woman screaming, followed by a flash of green light. The dream was one he'd had before—a lot. Especially when he was a little kid, still living in the cupboard at the Dursleys.

He finally decided to risk going back to Diagon Alley because he wouldn't be able to keep his name to himself if he did go to Hogwarts. He'd even signed the letter with his real name.

That didn't mean he wanted people to know who he was. He didn't want all that attention, and he certainly didn't want anyone to notice that he wasn't exactly living with a traditional family.

Finally, James broke down and got on the tube to head back to The Leaky Cauldron. It was a Wednesday, and the pub was the emptiest he'd seen it yet.

"Hey, Sonny. Back again, eh?" Tom grinned at him, and James walked up to the bar and sat on one of the stools, setting his leather bag on the counter. "Sure thing. I wanted to pick up some more books, and I still need to get my robes and cauldron and stuff. I got a little carried away in the bookstore last time."

"That's understandable." Tom smiled. "I find that most Muggle-borns are eager to learn everything they can about the magical world. I recommend _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. It's a good read, and gives you a pretty good overview of current events."

"Yeah. I got that one—it was a decent read. Just finished _Modern Magical History _last night."

"Atta boy!" Tom grinned, tilting his head a little ways down the bar to a man wearing black robes and a purple turban. "This one'll make a great student, don't you think Professor?"

The man hardly glanced in his direction, and James raised an eyebrow.

"That's Professor Quirrell. He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor." Tom explained, lowering his voice. "A bit jumpy—had a nasty run-in with some vampires a couple years ago."

James nodded in understanding, eyes flickering to the unresponsive professor. He was glad the man seemed uninterested. It would be awkward if he had to lie to the man about his name now—though James was wondering if he'd be able to go by his middle name when he was at Hogwarts. He'd definitely ask when he got there.

"Right. Well I've still got lots to buy." James smiled at Tom. "Good seeing you again."

"Need me to get the wall for you, laddy?"

"Nah. Bought my wand already. But thanks!" Quirrell watched him as he left the pub, and James felt an uncomfortable twinge in his forehead when the man turned away from him. He ignored it, instead making his way out back and into Diagon Alley.

He wandered up and down the street a bit, before settling on Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. That was definitely one thing he didn't want to skimp on—if he was going to humiliate himself by wearing a dress, it certainly was going to be a nice one.

"Hogwarts, dear?" The squat smiling, woman asked when he walked in the door. James nodded, inwardly wincing at the overabundance of mauve on the woman's dress—er… robes. If he was going to be wearing them, he refused to keep calling them dresses.

"We've got another boy here for Hogwarts. If you'll just follow me."

James did, hopping up on the platform in the room and obediently pulling the robe over his head while the lady took measurements. A boy with a pointed face and slicked back blonde hair was also getting fitted.

"Hogwarts, too?" The blonde asked in a lazy drawl.

"Yeah."

"Father's down the street buying my books, and mother's picking out my cauldron. Of course she'll settle for nothing but the best. The Potion's Professor at Hogwarts is my Godfather, you know. I've been having lessons with him. I'm good at potions. I'm quite looking forward to class." The bored, lazy drawl grated on James' nerves.

"Really? I'm more looking forward to Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts." James shrugged. "More action—certainly beats staring at a pot of goo for hours. And all that prep-work—bleh! Just like cooking. I hate cooking."

The blonde looked more than a little offended, but James ignored that. "I don't think I'm going to like Astronomy either. Don't get me wrong—I'm sure it's neat. But I honestly don't give a rat's arse about the stars."

"Potions is a very noble subject!"

"I'm sure it is—I just don't think I'm going to be good at it. I am interested in everything the book says you can do with potions though."

A light seemed to click on in the blonde's eyes. "You're a Muggle-born, aren't you?"

"So what if I am?" James sneered. "I reckon I could still kick your arse all over the place."

"As if a filthy little mudblood could ever—"

"Boys! I will not abide by such language in my shop!" Madame Malkin burst in. "Mr. Malfoy, I presume you would not be pleased if I were to tell your mother about your choice of language—"

"Sorry, ma'am." Malfoy interjected. "Won't happen again."

"It better not."

James snickered at the cowed expression on the blonde's face.

"Don't you laugh at him or I'll be having words with your mother."

"My mother is dead." James said flatly. "So is my father—before you try to go running to him as well."

Madame Malkin straightened up, huffing slightly. "All the same—I'd prefer you behave yourself in my shop. If not, I'll ask you to leave."

James just shrugged. "That's your call. I don't know enough about the wizarding world to have any shop loyalties, really. So if you don't want me as a customer, I'll gladly go elsewhere."

Madame Malkin hurriedly shook her head. "That's not what I meant, dear. I've already got you started. But please—mind your tongue!"

James didn't reply, arching an eyebrow when he noticed the Malfoy brat staring at him.

"How'd your parents die?"

"They were murdered by Voldemort." James said simply, rolling his eyes when three gasps ripped through the room. "Did I say something?"

"You said his name!" Malfoy actually looked kind of impressed. "You're not supposed to say his name."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because… Er…"

Madame Malkin straightened up. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was an atrociously evil man—who did very evil things. He's the most fearsome Dark Lord in well over three hundred years—people were too scared to say his name while he was still alive, are mostly too scared to say his name now."

"Right." James shifted uncomfortably. "But he's dead."

"Maybe." The witch that was tailoring Malfoy's robes added. "No one really knows for sure. They never found a body."

"Nonsense. If he isn't dead, where has he been for the past ten years? I bet anything it was Karma—he tried to kill that poor, little Harry Potter and it was instant Karma. It backfired on him because he was so heartless he tried to kill a little baby." Madame Malkin shook her head. "Poor Lamb. Anyways, you're all set."

"Thanks." James jumped down off the fitting platform, taking the robes off and neatly folding all of them into his bag. He paid Madame Malkin quickly and slipped out of the shop, nearly bumping into the blonde man he'd seen on Saturday.

"Er… Sorry 'bout that." James tried not to snicker. Today, 'Barbie' was wearing violet robes that looked more pink than purple.

"Something you find amusing?"

"No, Sir. Nothing at all." James grinned cheekily. "Just admiring your dress."

Before the man could process that, James ducked around him and quickly slipped in among the crowd. A glance over his shoulder showed the blonde man glaring at him before disappearing into the shop.

* * *

Lucius glared after the little urchin who had the audacity to turn and shoot him a cheeky grin when he was safely down the street. "Cheeky brat…"

Draco was looking quite put out when Lucius made it to the back room, his eyes narrowing in a way that meant he was going to make a whining demand.

"Father! That boy threatened me! With Muggle violence, no less!"

Lucius blinked. "James? Be glad he only threatened you and didn't follow through."

"What do you mean by that?" Madame Malkin asked, straightening up for the next customer. "He seemed like a lot of talk—sassy little thing."

"And how do you know his name!?" Draco demanded.

"I observed him on Saturday. He had a run in with Fenrir Greyback. I hope you'll excuse my language, but I was quite amused to see that boy hand Greyback his arse."

Madame Malkin faltered. "Greyback!? Where'd he meet Greyback!? Not…"

"Yes. He wandered down Knockturne Alley."

"What!? You won't even let me step foot in Knockturne!" Draco whined. "That's so not fair. But some stupid Muggle-born does and you're all impressed with him?"

"I'm impressed because he wasn't some naïve little fool who wandered blindly into a sticky situation. He unknowingly found himself in trouble and quite craftily got himself back out of it." Lucius lectured.

Draco pouted, but Lucius ignored him. Instead, he settled the bill with Madame Malkin as Draco's fitting wrapped up.

"I'd say the boy has a little reason to be cocky. I just hope he learns to curb his tongue before he finds himself in serious trouble." Madame Malkin shook her head. "If he ever manages to learn how to keep a level head, I reckon that boy will be a force to be reckoned with."

"Indeed." Lucius smirked. "But if he doesn't, I wouldn't mind seeing him brought down a peg or two."

"Now Lucius. He's just a child."

"A child that probably didn't spend enough time over someone's knee." Lucius shook his head. "Come Draco. We have a lot to do just yet."

"I want to go look at brooms!"

"No. We've discussed this already. You will get a new broom when and if you get on the house team."

"Father!"

"Another boy that hasn't spent enough time over someone's knee?" Madame Malkin commented pointedly.

Draco flushed, but snapped his mouth shut when Lucius just smirked at the woman. "Perhaps."

* * *

Severus couldn't say he was surprised when he saw James ambling down Knockturne Alley again, only a few days after his run in with Greyback. He was pleased to note that the boy wandered no further than Gren's shop, however.

James was a complete mystery. According to Minerva, there was no 'James' on this year's list of incoming first years—and the deputy headmistress had also assured him that there was no way that any Muggle-borns could have possibly been missed. Severus hadn't shared exactly why he wanted to know, but Minerva was a smart woman—he had no doubt she knew he had stumbled onto something odd.

And odd it was. Severus abandoned his potion—the mystery surrounding 'James' was far more intriguing than the Calming Draught he was experimenting on.

Gren's Book Nook was always quiet—she didn't get a lot of business, given the fact that she was a hag. There were only a handful of regular customers that kept her afloat. Severus was one of them.

It didn't help her that she was almost painfully generous when she priced her used books. She had once admitted that it just didn't feel right to charge so much for used merchandise—especially when she didn't actually pay that much for them in the first place.

James was wandering around the shop with Gren, steadily talking her ear off while he examined the book titles.

"I finished _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ the first night—couldn't put it down. It was absolutely fascinating. I tried looking through my school books as well—I'd like to chuck _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Preservation_. It was a complete waste of money—I was wondering if you could suggest a better book."

Gren nodded, leading the boy over to the correct shelf. "Defense Against the Dark Arts is a tricky subject—you have to be careful where you draw the line in what you're learning. Have you started reading that book on Wizarding Laws yet? The Ministry takes a pretty hard stance against anything they consider Dark—but a lot of the spells you'll eventually learn to defend yourself with are borderline Dark as it is."

"Well, that make sense. It's not like we can just split the world into black and white, right? There are too many shades of grey. One person's slate grey is another person's blackest black."

Severus suddenly understood why Gren had warmed up to James so quickly. Not only was the kid completely unfazed by her, he was intelligent.

"That's a very wise concept for you to grasp so early on—I don't feel one bit guilty about this then." Gren started shifting through the books, pulling several texts down. "_Compendium of Curses and Their Counter-Actions_… That one's good for the practical portion… _Self-Defensive Spellwork_—that's another good practical one… Mind you, these might be a bit above your head at first—but once you get the hang of learning how to do magic, you'll start to understand… Ah! _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts_… That's a classic…

Severus cleared his throat, causing Gren to startle. The boy just arched an eyebrow at him and turned back to examining the books. "Perhaps _Confronting the Faceless_ and _Jinxes for the Jinxed_… If you are so inclined to expand your Defensive knowledge early on."

James turned to look at him fully this time, cocking his head to the side. Green eyes measured him carefully. "Thanks."

Gren wordlessly pulled the two new books down. "Will that be all deary, or are you going to buy me out."

"I don't know. I think I'll buy you out—can't have too much knowledge, right?" James grinned at the hag, eyes darting around the shop before settling back on Severus. "So. What do you do?"

"I am a Potions Master. My name is Severus Snape."

"I'm James. Do you really use stewed slugs and raw bat spleens in potions?"

"Certainly."

"No offense, but that's really fucking gross." James scrunched his nose distastefully. "Hey—could you tell me a good book that explains potion terms. I looked at the first-year Potions book, but for the life of me I couldn't figure out—what's the difference between chopping and slicing? Or dicing and cubing? What's the difference between grinding and smashing? And does it really make a difference?"

"It most certainly does." Severus moved towards the Potions section and pulled down _Potions Methodology: The Complete Encyclopedia of Every Process in Potioneering_. "This should shine some light on that."

"Right. Thanks!" James grinned, opening the book and looking through it. "This will help a lot."

"It is of no consequence." Severus pulled down another book—_Actions and Reactions: Knowing How Your Brew Will React Before You Add the Next Ingredient_. "This one will help you understand how ingredients react to each other, different heat levels, and different levels of magic. It's a bit dry, but it has a lot of good information. Are you looking forward to Potions?"

James shook his head. "Not really. I mean, no offense, but it seems a lot like cooking and I don't cook anymore."

"Anymore?" Severus ignored the slight against his area of expertise. Like cooking his arse!

"Oh." James just shrugged. "I did when I was a kid—now I don't."

Severus wasn't sure what to make of that strange comment, but could see the kid closing himself off and didn't push it. "It isn't for everyone—very few people become competent at brewing."

"I'll probably be bullocks at it." James shrugged, wandering up to the counter where Gren had neatly stacked his books. "What do I owe you?"

"Three Galleons and two Sickles." Gren supplied. The boy dug in his leather bag, pulling out a smaller bag and fishing out the correct coins. Severus raised his eyebrow when he noticed how full the bag was.

"That's quite a lot of spending money."

"Oh. Yeah." James glanced back up at him, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. "My Uncle gave me a lot of money for my school things—wants me to be well prepared."

Only because Severus was a master Legilimens did he catch the subtle lie in the words. James' eyes widened slightly and Severus nearly flinched backwards when he felt a subtle brush against his Occlumency shields. Without thinking, he snapped at the boy. "It is rude to try to use mental magic on someone without their permission."

James' eyes widened even more, before narrowing suspiciously. "Don't be a fucking hypocrite! You just used it on me!"

Severus did take a step back then, his own eyes narrowing at the boy. "How could you possibly know that!?"

"I felt it, asshole!"

"Watch your language, boy!"

Gren coughed slightly, and James quickly handed her the coins. He swept the books into his bag, shooting Severus another glare. "I'll see you later, Gren. Don't work too hard, now."

Severus stared after the boy as he rushed out of the shop and quickly disappeared out of Knockturne Alley, his mind swirling with questions.

"You tried to use Legilimency on a kid?" Gren asked gruffly.

"I didn't try to—it just happened. He was lying about his Uncle giving him money—though it was a small lie, so I'm not sure exactly which part wasn't true. Then, he tried to Legilimize me…" Severus trailed off, shaking his head. "The more I see of that boy, the more surprised I am. Did you know he got the upper hand against Greyback?"

"I heard—Greyback has been in a right foul mood for days." Gren shook her head. "I don't know the kid's story, but he's smart as hell—has a wicked tongue too. But he's respectful enough so long as you show him respect." The last statement was said so pointedly that Severus actually felt a little ashamed of himself for a second. He swept from the shop without another word, pausing outside of Wings, Stings and Things before deciding against returning to his potions. Instead, he returned to Diagon Alley to see if he couldn't find the brat.

He did catch sight of the brat slipping away through the Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron, and would have been hot on his heels if his godson hadn't suddenly bowled into him.

"Uncle Sev!"

"Hello Draco." Severus sighed, turning to the blonde boy as James slipped out of sight. "Are you ready for Hogwarts."

"You bet!" Draco grinned smugly. "I got a good cauldron. I can't wait for Potions."

"Severus." Lucius approached with Narcissa on his arm. "What brings you to Diagon Alley. It's strange to see you out of the lab so many times in one week."

"I had an encounter with our mysterious young friend." Severus said vaguely.

"Ah. The Urchin." Lucius shook his head. "I did as well."

"What are you two talking about—not that stupid Muggle-born!?"

"Watch your words, Draco." Lucius snapped. He turned back to Severus. "What tales do you have today?"

"He tried to Legilimize me—I'm fairly certain he's not trained, but he also sensed my Legilimency."

"Really?" Lucius tapped his cane on his palm. "The mystery deepens. Did you find out who he is?"

"There is no 'James' in the incoming first years—and all the Muggle-borns are accounted for." Severus explained, turning his eyes up the street where the boy had disappeared to. "This warrants further investigation."

"Indeed."

"Perhaps you will join us for dinner then, Severus." Narcissa interjected delicately. "I am curious about this child as well."

"Not you too, mother!" Draco pouted. "He's just some dumb kid with a big mouth."

"Now, Draco." Narcissa reached out and smoothed his hair. "Are you saying you don't want Severus to come to dinner? You've been pestering us to invite him over for weeks."

"Of course I do!" Draco straightened up, turning his pleading gaze to Severus. "You will come to dinner, won't you?"

"Yes, Draco. I'm coming to dinner." Severus smiled slightly, nodding at Lucius. "The usual time?"

"Six sharp." Lucius affirmed. "We'll see you then."

Severus watched the family of blonds walk off, before quickly resuming his course towards The Leaky Cauldron. Maybe he'd get lucky and the kid would still be lingering.

* * *

James stopped at the Leaky Cauldron after his hasty departure from Gren's Book Nook. He was rather hungry, and Tom was more than happy to serve him a sandwich and an ice-cold glass of pumpkin juice—apparently there weren't sodas in the wizarding world.

The pumpkin juice actually wasn't that bad. It was light and sweet—but not too sweet. It had a very _clean_ feel to it, leaving him feeling refreshed.

Overall, it had been a good day. With exception of that one tosser that had the balls to try and lecture him on invading people's minds after doing the exact same thing…

James shuddered. He hadn't even considered that a possibility. That made things more dangerous for him. He'd been able to tell if people were lying to him, of course—and he'd always been excellent at spinning convincing tales himself. But to realize that was just another part of this magical business…

It was troubling.

James shook his head as he finished off his sandwich and settled the bill with Tom. The barkeep was as pleasant as ever—keen to give advice and overall just a nice guy. Part of James saw potential there—the guy was too nice. Sucker nice. But at the moment, James saw no reason to try and take advantage of that.

Once again, James found himself still lacking a few school supplies—he still needed a pair of gloves, a telescope and a winter cloak. On top of that, he'd likely end up buying quite a few more books before school started. The more he read, the more questions he had and the more he wanted to know.

At least Dan and Lou were just as eager for him to find out as much as he could—they'd already promised any amount of money for James to buy whatever he needed.

Charing Cross Road was busy, and James was nearly plowed over when he stepped out of The Leaky Cauldron. He deftly started weaving in and out of the crowd, making his way towards Tottenham Court Road and the underground station. The further he went away from The Leaky Cauldron, however, the more he became aware that someone was following him.

He would never have noticed in Diagon Alley. There was too much magic there. Hell, he wouldn't have even noticed before his first trip to Diagon Alley—the overabundance of magic in the air had sung to his senses and he'd become hyper-aware of it. So now, in a completely non-magic part of London James could feel the foreign presence keeping steady with him.

Pretending not to notice, James seamlessly changed his course and got on the tube going in the opposite direction of Dan's flat. It took a lot of will-power not to look around wildly when he knew someone was watching him. But he managed to keep his composure pretty good, waiting a few stops before slipping off the train. Just as expected, there was a larger crowd here and James easily slipped into the writhing mass of people.

Whoever was following him faltered a bit, and the extra space between was more than enough for James to duck out of sight and slowly make his way to the train that would take him back where he'd just come from. It would be a twenty-minute wait, so he stationed himself next to a pillar and surveyed the crowd for any familiar faces.

There—the guy that he'd met in the book shop! Severus something—James ducked behind the pillar after he got a good look at the man. That fucker was following him!

"This isn't good." James swallowed thickly. Why would the man follow him through London? Was it because he had found something in his head about him being Harry Potter? Was he out to get him? The books he'd read had mentioned that there were still quite a lot of Voldemort's followers alive and free.

Or the man could have been some sort of weird fan-boy—though he didn't seem the type.

Whichever it was, James wanted nothing to do with it. He kept a wary eye on the crowd, pleased to see the man steadily getting further away from his hiding spot, caught in the crowd and being steadily herded up the stairs to the street above. James glared at the back of the man's head, jumping slightly when he whirled around to stare at him.

That was creepy—had the guy actually felt his glare? James didn't know, but he beat a hasty retreat when the man started trying to fight his way down the stairs. He managed to slip onto a departing train just before the doors closed and smirked when he saw Severus freeze and start muttering curses as the train steadily started to pick up speed. Rather bravely, he waved at the man just before he disappeared from sight.

In his hurry, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going. But it wasn't that big of a deal. He'd get off at the next station and find the right train to take him back to the flat—or maybe he'd take a round-about way just to make sure he didn't cross paths with Batman.

James snickered slightly. There was Batman, and there was Barbie—and he knew at the very least that they knew each other. Oh… the possibilities….

One thing he was definitely certain of—he would need to hit the books and learn some defensive spells before he went back to Diagon Alley again. He didn't think he'd be any match for a fully trained wizard, and if things were starting to get hairy, he needed a plan.

* * *

Severus was more than a little irate when he showed up at Malfoy manor a few minutes before 6:00. A house elf ushered him straight into the dining room, and he was joined almost immediately by Lucius.

"You seem angry." Lucius commented drolly, accepting the glass of wine the elf placed in front of him. Severus accepted his own glass, taking a large gulp.

"I tried to follow our Little Urchin." Severus admitted after a minute, nodding to Narcissa when she came in and sat next to Lucius.

"Tried?"

"He gave me the slip—I think he knew I was following him the whole while." Severus grumbled. "I followed him into the Muggle underground and he got off at a really busy station—disappeared into the crowd. I caught sight of him getting on another train and he just _smirked_ and waved."

"You were careless." Lucius sipped his wine.

"I was nothing of the sort—I simply did not think I would need to employ extensive measure's to follow an eleven year old boy that was raised as a Muggle!"

"You're not still talking about that boy from Diagon Alley, are you?" Draco asked exasperatedly as he slipped into the dining room and took the seat next to Severus. "He's not so special."

"On the contrary, Draco. He's quite an enigma." Lucius countered. "He found out about the magical world from Muggle contacts after he received a Hogwarts letter with no explanation."

"That's alarming." Narcissa supplied, eyebrows furrowing. "If he isn't a Muggle-born, how is it he knew nothing about the wizarding world?"

"I do not know." Severus shook his head, allowing an elf to refill his glass of wine as dinner was served. "He is rather devious, however. I'm not surprised he was able to find Diagon Alley. But I have been unable to find out who he is. There is no James on this year's enrollment list."

"What makes you think his name is James?" Draco asked. "I didn't hear his name when we were in Madame Malkin's."

"We overheard a conversation with him and his Muggle friend, and today he introduced himself as James." Severus explained. "He mentioned an uncle that is supplying him with funds for his school supplies, but he was lying about that. Whether he was lying about the fact that they came from his uncle, or whether his uncle actually _gave_ him the money is still up in the air."

"Why do you even care, though?" Draco was whining, and all present knew if they didn't put a stop to it a full blown temper tantrum would soon be upon them.

"I care, because it is not proper for a Hogwarts student to not receive a legitimate initiation into the wizarding world. If this boy is not in fact a Muggle-born, it means he slipped through the cracks somewhere. It is unacceptable for magical children to be raised by Muggles with no clue about their heritage. Though, I am still not convinced that he isn't a Muggle-born."

"Perhaps he is an illegitimate child of one of the noble families—it has happened before."

"That is possible." Severus agreed. "It is also possible that he was thought to be a squib and abandoned in the Muggle world—that has also happened before."

"I doubt any child with that level of magical power could ever be mistaken for a squib." Lucius shook his head. "There is no way his abilities developed overnight—not if he's showing an innate talent for the mental magics."

Draco was practically trembling and suddenly slammed his hands down on the table. "Voldemort!"

Severus flinched, Lucius dropped his glass of wine into his lap and Narcissa screamed slightly.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy!" Lucius leapt to his feet. "You will explain yourself this instant!"

"That kid said his name! And when everyone got all bent out of shape about it, he asked why we can't say it! Why can't we say it?"

"We do not utter the Dark Lord's name because he considered it to be a blatant challenge! To utter his name was a surefire way to earn nothing but pain or death." Lucius hissed, rubbing his forearm through his robes. "That bloody urchin says his name because he has no understanding about what it means! I expect better of you!"

"But he's dead! How can he possibly hurt us if he's dead?" Draco looked around at the three adults, face flushed and eyes wide. "Isn't he? Everyone says so."

Lucius slowly sat down, exchanging a look with Narcissa. He nodded to Severus, who cleared his throat loudly.

"It is highly probable that the Dark Lord is not as deceased as everyone believes him to be. In fact, there is evidence that he is very much alive—if in a state of minimal existence."

Draco paled dramatically. "He's _not_ dead!? He—You-Know-Who! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"Draco. Just because the Dark Lord is not quite dead does not mean that he'll miraculously know you used his name and materialize out of thin air to punish you." Narcissa coughed quietly. "However, it would be wise of you not to do it again."

Draco nodded, staring down at his plate and picking up his fork. He took a hurried bite of his food, fidgeting as the adults continued to stare at him. "What? I'm sorry, okay! It's just—he asked us why people aren't supposed to say the name, and the best reason Madame Malkin could give him was that the Dark Lord was really scary when he was alive."

"You are forgiven. However, I must insist that you do not publicize what we have told you today. It would cause many problems for our family if we had to explain exactly how we know the Dark Lord is still out there somewhere." Lucius turned to his own plate of food, waving his wand to clear the spilled wine.

Severus sat back in his chair, not really feeling hungry. "Why did he mention the Dark Lord, Draco?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't remember. I just remember when he said it—everyone was kind of upset."

"That is understandable."

The rest of dinner was a silent affair, and before long Draco was excusing himself. Once he was gone, Lucius let out a heavy sigh. "I was really hoping to postpone that conversation until he was older—but I can't have him running around slandering the Dark Lord. He needed to know."

"He did." Severus agreed.

Narcissa suggested calmly that they move to the drawing room, and the elves slipped in to clear the table as they were leaving.

"What do you propose to do about the urchin? He's doing a fine job of learning about the wizarding world on his own, but there are some points where I'd say he needs guidance." Lucius poured two glasses of fire-whiskey and handed one to Severus. "He can't go around spouting off about the Dark Lord without understanding the connotations. Nor should we allow him to go around spouting about 'Muggle-people.' That will just embarrass him." From his tone of voice, Lucius wasn't that concerned with the boy embarrassing himself.

"I agree. I am also concerned about the presence of an adult in his life—I have yet to see him in the company of an adult, and he was quite comfortable traversing London by himself."

"You think he might live alone?"

"Not alone. But there is a serious lack of authority in his life."

"I noticed that. That child is in need of a sound spanking." Lucius sneered. "He's incredibly rude."

Severus couldn't argue with that.


	6. Chapter Five

Warning: This chapter contains attempted rape

Chapter 5

James waited two weeks before going back to Diagon Alley. In that time, he'd visited Carl to tell him all about what was happening, finished most of his books, and was making pretty good progress on learning the spells themselves.

It wasn't really hard—the biggest stumbling block he was having was the pronunciations of the spells. But after he got that, there really was not much stopping him from performing the spells. And he'd finally figured out why wizards used wands.

Magic done with a wand was easier and more powerful. Whereas before, James had to concentrate hard on what he wanted to happen—and it took a lot of concentration—now, James had to say the right world, get the right movement and that was pretty much it. Granted, sometimes he did have to specifically concentrate on what he was trying to make happen—but most of the time he focused too hard and the results were just too much.

Like when he'd been trying the levitation spell. He'd been a bit distracted and it had taken him forever to figure out how to actually say 'wingardium leviosa.' His first successful try had levitated the toaster a few inches off the counter. After that, he'd gotten excited and tried again—only that time he was focused solely on trying to make the toaster lift off the counter.

It did. It shot up like a bullet and embedded itself in the ceiling.

After that, James had pried the toaster out of the ceiling and spent another three hours trying to learn 'reparo.' It had worked on the ceiling—but the toaster had just twitched a little bit under the spell.

Lou thought it was hilarious. Dan was just upset that they had to buy a new toaster and he couldn't toast his bagel the next morning.

James was still nowhere near comfortable with his magical knowledge—he really didn't think it would be enough if he ran into serious trouble against a witch or wizard. Especially since he couldn't really practice the jinxes and hexes he'd looked up. He didn't quite fancy trying them for the first time in a fight, but he wouldn't know if he was good enough until then anyways. He'd never know if he was prepared enough or not until it was down to the wire, so it really made no sense to try and put off going back to Diagon Alley any longer. On top of that, he was impatient as hell and decided he'd risk it anyways.

It was late in the evening, and The Leaky Cauldron was packed. Tom just grinned at him when he slipped into the pub, but was busy with customers so didn't pay him much attention. James was just fine with that and made his way back to Diagon Alley. He decided to get the rest of his list out of the way, going in search of a telescope and some dragon-hide gloves. The cloak was a different story—he'd seen the price of the cloaks in Madame Malkin's, and wasn't quite willing to spend that kind of money unless he had to. He'd much rather buy books.

He found a second-hand robe store next to Ollivander's—but one look at the ratty state of their clothes had him practically running out the door. With a shrug, James started back down the familiar path to Knockturne Alley. Maybe Jiggers' had a cloak—it was worth asking.

There were more people out and about in Knockturne than James had seen yet. Go figure that the sun would go down and people would crawl out of the woodwork. James ignored most of them, well aware that a lot of people were staring at him as he slipped into Jiggers' Knacks.

"You shouldn't be wandering around these parts so late, sonny." Jiggers scolded the second James was in the door.

James just shrugged. "I was wondering if you've got any cloaks—I need one for school but I don't fancy the one's at Madame Malkin's."

"You don't fancy the price, you mean?" Jiggers chuckled, motioning James to follow him as he tromped around the piles of junk. "I don't generally buy clothes—only the one's with special enhancements. Not much of a market for used robes and cloaks."

James nodded in understanding. "What sort of special enhancements?"

"There's self-sizing—those are a pretty good hit, but most people don't tend to sell those. I've come across a few self-cleaning robes. Goes over great with people who don't have house elves. I've got a handful of cloaks…" Jiggers looked at the small stack of sloppily folded clothes and started pulling them out.

"This one's fireproof and waterproof. It would be a bit big for you, though. I suppose you could get it tailored but if you're going to spend money like that you might as well break down and buy one new. Let's see…"

James waited patiently while the old man sifted through cloaks that were mostly too big.

"Here's one—if you were so inclined to spend a little extra, I'd recommend one like this." The cloak he was holding up seemed completely unexciting. "This one's actually made for a woman—but that's okay because you need a smaller size anyways."

"What's so special about it?" James softly stroked the material. It felt like wool.

"It's interwoven with runes—it will get warmer if you're too cold, cooler if you're too hot. It's rainproof and windproof, and adjusts a bit in size. Try it on."

James did, shrugging the cloak around his shoulder. At once it shortened a bit, so it wasn't quite dragging on the ground and James could feel the hum of the magic as the cloak cooled a bit. "That's brilliant!"

"Now, it costs a fair bit—but new one's of the like cost damn near an arm and a leg."

"How much?" James asked warily, mentally calculating how many Galleons he had left.

"27 Galleons."

"Wow." James thought for a minute, mindlessly stroking the coarse fabric which immediately softened under his touch. He fingered the clasp a bit, biting his lip. "I'll take it."

"Excellent! You won't regret it. Mark my words. When winter comes around, you'll be glad you bought it."

James smiled slightly, pulling out 27 Galleons and handing them to the man. He carefully folded the cloak up and slipped it into his bag, frowning down at his wand sticking out of the side pocket of the satchel. "Got any sort of wand holders?"

"Holsters? Yeah. What kind you looking for?"

"Something that will let me keep it out of sight but in easy reach."

"Right. I've got just the thing!"

James left Jiggers' with his wand secure in a smooth leather holster on his wrist. His sleeve was pulled down over it, but the holster was designed to eject the wand at a thought. James had practiced it several times before leaving the shop, causing Jiggers to laugh heartily when his wand overshot his hand the first three times and clattered to the ground. James had just grinned, picked up his wand and tried again until he was able to successfully draw his wand without dropping it.

The bustle had died down in the alley by the time James left the shop, and he shuddered at the deserted street. By this time, it was fully dark and there were few lights in Knockturne Alley.

"Hello, beautiful." A gruff voice said in his ear, and James didn't even have the chance to yell before a hand clamped over his mouth and an arm wrapped tightly across his chest. He was slammed back tightly into someone's body and lifted off the ground. What little light there was vanished as he was rushed into smaller alley and pressed harshly against a wall.

"What's the matter? Nothing up your sleeve this time?" The voice growled in his ear, the hand still covering his mouth.

James gagged against the smell of the man—stale sweat and alcohol—trying to push him away. He bit down hard on the hand, and was rewarded with a heavy blow to the face.

"None of that—I'm the only one that gets to bite." To prove his point he fisted James' hair and jerked his head back, exposing the boys' throat.

James shuddered as teeth scraped along the column of his throat, yelping when the hand that wasn't holding his hair slipped into the back of his pants and a finger roughly pushed into him. His wand was in his hand in a second, and he screamed the first spell that came to mind. "Confringo!"

The man's grip didn't relinquish, so when he went flying backwards James went with him. They landed in a heap, and James quickly found himself pinned under the weight of the larger man—a hand twisting his arm agonizingly hard. James cried out, taking his wand in his left hand and leveling it at the man's chest. "Stupefy!"

The flash of red light caused the body above him to twitch before it went limp.

"Fuck!" James swore, scrabbling to get out from under the dead weight on top of him, hissing at the pain that flared from his wrist.

"Locomotor Corpus!" The body suddenly lifted off of him, and James rolled out from under it. He scrambled to his feet, aiming his wand at the dark shadow that was responsible for the spell, taking a step back.

"Do try not to hex us." A hand descended on his good arm from his left, forcing his wand down. "We're just trying to help."

James couldn't make out any details in the darkness, and simply swung around and brought his knee up as hard as he could—the pained grunt and yowl let him know that he'd hit his target and he quickly detached himself from the man. A 'thump' made him jump and he spun again. The man that had attacked him was back on the ground, and the dark figure he'd seen earlier blocked his way out of the alley.

"Alright there, Lucius?" There was a definite chuckle in the dark voice that James recognized instantly.

"I will be when I skin this Little Urchin alive!"

* * *

It wasn't exactly unexpected that the 'Urchin'—as both Severus and Lucius had come to call him—hadn't reappeared in Diagon Alley or Nockturne Alley for two weeks. At least not that Severus knew of. It figured the kid would wise up after he'd seen Severus tailing him.

He'd talked to Tom a bit at the Leaky Cauldron, and had gotten the barkeep to agree to let him know when James showed up again. He hadn't really expected Tom to follow through. Mostly, he hadn't expected James to come back.

So he was thoroughly surprised when the owl tapped on the grimy window of the apothecary baring a short note saying that James had passed through the pub around 7:30 that evening. Severus had immediately floo'd Lucius, and the blonde had stepped into the shop only a few minutes later.

Severus was busily putting the final touches on his last potion of the night—he'd spent most of the day working on it and didn't want to ruin it, while Lucius kept an eye out the window for any sign of the boy.

"Are you sure he'll come through Knockturne? I mean—he's already gotten in a spot of trouble here. He is obviously quick on the uptake to learn from his mistakes. It would be incredibly foolish of him to come waltzing through after dark as well."

"I'm almost positive he'll come." Severus muttered, carefully measuring out seventeen drops of belladonna extract in the proper intervals between 71 counter-clockwise stirs. "He absolutely adores Gren, I think. He always stops by her shop."

Lucius' nose wrinkled at mention of the hag, but his attention didn't leave the street below. "And what does Gren think of the boy?"

"She thinks he's intelligent and respectful. I'd laugh, except I've seen it for myself. He treats her respectfully, asks her opinion on books—and Gren likes him."

"Gren doesn't like anyone!"

"We've found the exception that proves the rule." Severus coughed lightly, switching from counter-clockwise stirs to a waving, back and forth motion that had the potion turning from wispy blue to a nearly fluorescent pink. The final touch was the fine ground hippogriff talon and a single clockwise stir that settled the color to a pearly, pale pink.

"You were right. He's heading up the street now." Lucius muttered. "What do we do?"

"We wait. We can't exactly follow him now—least of all because all the shops are warded against disillusionment." Severus approached the window where Lucius stood. The hour when it turned dark was usually Knockturne's busiest hour—the street was unusually crowded and Severus barely caught sight of the boy as he disappeared into Jiggers' Knacks. "He sure develops shop loyalty quickly."

"He's been to Jiggers' before?"

"Yeah. The first day we caught sight of him." Severus turned from the window, carefully bottling his potion and cleaning the mess with a wave of his wand before returning to the window. The road beneath them was clearing out quickly, most of the more 'unsavory' business having been completed. Within a few minutes, the street was completely deserted save for a single figure leaning mostly out of sight in a smaller alley across the way.

"Is that Greyback?" Lucius asked seriously, even as the door to Jiggers' Knacks opened and James strolled out. The boy glanced around, shivering noticeably before starting down the street. The figure emerged from the alley quickly and silently and had the boy in a flash.

"It is." Severus hissed, running for the stairs even as the werewolf dragged the boy into the dark. Lucius was hot on his heels as they burst out of the shop. They heard a yelp, followed by a rather desperate "Confringo!" and quickly followed the noise. Just as they reached the mouth of the alley, they were blinded by an unexpected flash of red light.

"Fuck!" In the darkness, they could barely make out the massive form of Greyback, and the smaller form struggling to get out from underneath it.

"Locomotor Corpus." Severus flicked his wand at Greyback's prone form, levitating the body up and giving James the chance to scramble out from under it. The kid was on his feet in a flash, wand aimed at Severus. He noted the boy seemed to be favoring his right arm, and was using his left to aim the wand.

"Do try not to hex us." Lucius' voice came from deeper in the darkness, and it was only then that Severus realized the blonde had moved, and was pushing the boy's wand down. "We're just trying to help."

A second later there was a muffled 'thwack' and Lucius howled in pain.

Severus dropped Greyback on the ground, smirking when the boy whipped back around to face him again. He couldn't quite keep the smug smirk off his face when he spoke. "Alright there, Lucius?"

"I will be when I skin this Little Urchin alive!"

"Don't be like that, Lucius. We did rush out here to help, after all." Severus flicked his wand and the narrow alley filled with light. James cringed a bit, blinking rapidly at the unexpected brightness. His wand faltered between Severus and Lucius. Lucius was leaning heavily against the wall, his hands cupping his crotch rather desperately and his grey eyes gleaming murderously.

"We're not going to hurt you." Severus said gently, eyes coming to rest on the arm the boy was most definitely favoring. "Let me take a look at that wrist."

The boy tensed as Severus took a step closer, and Lucius growled impatiently. He whipped his wand out of the end of his cane and pointed it at the boy threateningly.

James tensed further, eyes flicking between the two men before he suddenly reached out with his injured hand and simply plucked the wand out of Lucius' grasp—he then had a wand pointed at both men as he backed up against the wall.

"Did—He—He just…" Lucius was at a complete loss, staring down at his now empty hand.

Severus chuckled again.

"What do you want?" James' voice was steady—something that surprised Severus greatly considering what the boy had just been through.

"We saw him grab you through the window and came to offer assistance." Lucius grumbled, eyes narrowed on his own wand in the child's hand. "Granted, you obviously had everything under control by the time we got here. Now, we are trying to ascertain that you are unharmed—which you obviously aren't—and you are being deliberately difficult. I insist you return my wand to me this instant."

"Fuck off, Barbie." James' glare narrowed at Lucius, though Severus could tell the boy was watching him out of the corner of his eye as well.

"My name is Lucius Malfoy." Lucius finally straightened up from where he was leaning against the wall, though he couldn't suppress a wince.

"I don't give a damn." James shot back.

"That was some pretty advanced magic for a first year." Severus interrupted. "Impressive."

"What's impressive about knowing a few spells to defend myself from the likes of _that_." In emphasis, James kicked the still unmoving body.

"Underage wizards are not allowed to perform magic outside of school."

James wasn't the only one looking incredulously at Lucius at that.

"Yeah, so? What do you think, this bloke is gonna waltz over to the Ministry and turn me in?" The boy snorted derisively, rolling his eyes. "I could see it now—he struts in, goes up to an auror and says, 'You know, I attacked this kid in a dark alley… I was gonna fuck him raw but he used magic to stop me… He's underage—will you kindly take care of it?' Is that about how it would go?"

Severus was thrown by the sarcastic narrative. Truthfully, he really hadn't expected the boy to understand Greyback's intentions. But 'fuck him raw' left very little doubt that the kid fully understood.

"The restriction on underage magic specifies that it is acceptable to use magic in a dangerous situation—you were completely within your rights to defend yourself from Greyback." Severus said calmly, shooting Lucius a look. "I would like to fix that wrist for you, however. It's broken, isn't it?"

"I don't know." James still didn't lower either wand, though his right arm was trembling.

"I'm fairly certain it is." Severus took another cautious step forward, careful to keep his wand lowered when green eyes snapped accusingly to him. "I'm just going to fix your wrist."

James didn't answer, but didn't hex him either.

Lucius suddenly lunged at the boy. "Give me my wand!"

"Incarcerous!" Ropes shot out of both wands, wrapping Lucius tightly and sending him tumbling to the ground. James stared down at Lucius for another second, before snapping both wands towards Severus.

"Lucius. You're an idiot." Severus rolled his eyes at the blond before turning back to James. "You don't have to let me fix it—but I must insist you hand over Lucius' wand before you go."

"That's fine." James carefully set the wand on the ground, keeping his own wand trained on Severus the whole time. He snatched up his fallen satchel and slowly approached, holding out his right arm. "You said you could fix it?"

Now that the boy was closer, Severus could see the bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and a bit of blood in the corner of his mouth. "I can. It might hurt a bit." Severus waited for the boy to nod before taking the slender arm in his hand and waving his wand over it. The diagnosis came back as a hairline fracture, and he knitted the bones back together with a quick tap of his wand.

James hissed, but didn't fidget under the ministration.

"If you want, I could get you a salve to get rid of that bruise." Severus reached out to touch the bruise in question, but James flinched heavily and ducked away. Green eyes flicked nervously to the only escape route. "That is up to you, of course." Severus moved pointedly out of the way, leaving a clear path. It only took a second before the boy flitted past him.

"Thanks."

Severus nodded, and James quickly disappeared. He then turned his attention to a fuming Lucius and released him with a wave of his wand.

"I'm going to kill that brat!"

"You have absolutely no tact." Severus helped the blonde to his feet. "What were you thinking trying to use force like that? He'd just been attacked."

Almost on cue, Greyback groaned. Severus sneered, kicking the wolf harshly in the ribs before turning and sweeping out of the alleyway.

Lucius was slower to follow, limping slightly. "What are we doing?"

"We're going to follow him—but we're going to be under disillusionment and sound dampening charms." Severus explained, taking the path out of Diagon Alley. They slipped through The Leaky Cauldron, Tom just raising an eyebrow at them as they passed into Muggle London. They couldn't see the boy anywhere, but Severus started off in the direction of the underground station on Tottenham Court Road. He muttered the disillusionment charm over himself and heard Lucius do the same.

Sure enough, James was at the station waiting for a train—this time going the opposite direction than last time. This only seemed to confirm Severus' suspicions that the boy had been aware that he was being followed the whole time.

As Severus and Lucius approached, James stiffened noticeably. He glanced around, making the motion seem completely natural as he scanned the area. A frown broke out on his face when he apparently noticed nothing out of the ordinary.

"Is it just me, or did he immediately know we were getting close?" Lucius breathed, close enough that Severus could hear him but no one else would.

"It wasn't just you."

At that moment, the boy started out of the underground, completely ignoring the train that had just pulled into the station. Severus and Lucius followed silently as the boy climbed up to street level and started walking briskly, further from The Leaky Cauldron.

The two men kept their distance, but were careful to keep the boy in sight. The path they were taking seemed random, and for a second Severus was worried that the boy had gotten lost.

That thought was quashed when they descended into a different underground station—confirming Severus' previous thoughts that James really knew his way around London.

"Where is he going?" Lucius asked impatiently, when they were stalled at the ticket platform. James surreptitiously bypassed the ticket machine with a little magic—Severus was quite impressed when he was unable to replicate the subtle move as he tried to pass through the little turnstile and instead had to climb over it. He heard Lucius curse quietly behind him, but didn't take his eyes off the boy that was standing impatiently in front of the doors of the train that had just pulled in while people offloaded.

Severus led Lucius to a door further down in the same car, keeping an eye on the boy and staying close to the door. Just as he expected, the boy slipped off the train right before the doors swept closed and Severus had to bodily drag Lucius back onto the loading platform before they got stuck going who-knows-where.

"He knows we're here." Lucius muttered as the kid practically jogged across the station to another platform and slipped onto another train. They barely managed to make it on board themselves before the doors jarringly closed and they started moving down the subway tunnel.

"Where did he go?"

Severus glanced around, finally locating the boy at the back of the car. Green eyes were darting all over the sparsely full car, eyebrows arched and breathing quickened.

"He does know we're here—but he can't see us." Severus muttered to Lucius. "And it's bothering him."

Lucius followed his line of sight, arching an eyebrow at the boy that was hunched low in a seat in the back of the car.

Neither man was sure what to make of that—or what to do about it. It was unlikely that James would actually go anywhere of import when he knew he was being followed. Which meant they were likely at the beginning of a very long wild-goose chase.

* * *

James walked down the street, trying to act casual even as his heart-rate skyrocketed and his hands twitched every few seconds in his pockets. It was getting late—after 10:00—and he'd been practically going in circles for the past hour and a half.

Someone was following him—at least two people, actually. James was fairly certain that there were two of them. He couldn't see them, and he couldn't hear any sounds of someone following him but he knew they were there.

He could _feel_ them.

And he was fairly certain the two men following him were the two from the alley. Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy—otherwise known as Batman and Barbie.

It was just about the only thing that made sense. After all, Batman had followed him before—and Barbie had been with Batman earlier.

It wasn't exactly a great leap to come to that conclusion.

James wasn't ashamed to admit to himself that he was scared—wouldn't anyone be scared when they were being stalked by invisible people that seemed to read his moves before he made them? He'd been in and out of six subway stations, changed trains three times, jumped off at the last minute at least four times and still he hadn't fooled them.

He'd also walked nearly four miles through different parts of the city and still they followed steadily.

It was exhausting.

James shook his head, trying to figure out what he was going to do next. If he couldn't shake them the old fashioned way, he'd have to get tricky. Which was why he was walking quickly through an increasingly dirtier neighborhood where the buildings were taller and closer together, and the streets weren't as straight.

He was taking a lot of sharp turns, walking at a determined pace. After a while of this he felt like he had established enough of a pattern to pull off his next move. The second he rounded the next turn, he broke into a dead run—slipping around another corner and another. He kept going for a bit, stopping before he got too tired and forcing his breathing to calm down as he slipped into a narrow gap between two buildings. He immediately regretted that, as there was a tall fence cutting off the path through.

He stilled himself carefully, ducking down in the darkness and focusing on not being seen. He could still _feel_ them, they were getting closer. He held his breath when they passed right in front of him. He still couldn't see them, so it was nothing but a ghost-life flicker in front of him. It was strange, because he couldn't hear them either.

James quietly crawled out of the dark gap, staring down the street where he thought they had gone. He didn't see anyone—but something did catch is attention. There were two shadows flickering on the sidewalk down the street. The only reason he saw them was because of the street lamp.

Feeling somewhat exhilarated because of this revelation, James did something that was risky and stupid.

He started following _them_.

It wasn't like they were out to hurt him, right? They would have had plenty of opportunities before to attack him, but they hadn't. Which meant that they were after something else entirely.

James kept low to the ground, darting in and out of shadows and carefully watching the progress of the shadows over the ground.

* * *

"We lost him, Severus. We might as well give up." Lucius growled, staring around the darkened Muggle neighborhood in disgust. "It's been forty minutes. We're probably not even going in the right direction. Next time, we ought to have a tracking charm."

"It just makes no sense!" Severus growled, coming to a halt and turning a full circle. "We were on his tail when he charged off, I was so sure we'd gone the right direction. Then he just disappeared."

"We will have to step up our game." Lucius muttered, shaking his head. "Are we calling it quits then?"

"I guess." Severus took one last glance around, eyes catching on a shadow that seemed to move a little too much. "Wait a second. Just a little while longer."

Lucius groaned, but raised an eyebrow when Severus muttered "Perstringeretro" and was quick to follow suit. A little window opened up in front of him, showing the view behind him. After a few seconds of careful study, Lucius caught sight of a slight figure flitting from one shadow to the next. He banished the mirror and huffed. "You realize that he's been following us for forty minutes without us noticing, do you not."

"Yes." Severus shook his head, a grin on his face as he looked over toward Lucius. "He played us well, don't you think?"

"I want to know how he knew we were there, and how he's managed to follow us." Lucius looked down at himself to make sure he was still disillusioned. He was. Then, he noticed his shadow. "We have shadows."

"So we do." Severus shook his head, pulling Lucius away from the light and coming to a halt in the darkest place he could find. They turned around and waited, finally catching sight of the boy straightening up from behind a trashcan. James glanced up the street, apparently scanning the ground for shadows underneath every light source.

"We're at a stalemate." Lucius pointed out. "If we move, he'll know where we are but if he moves he's at the disadvantage."

Before Severus could respond, the boy straightened up further and left his impromptu hiding place. He crept carefully up the street, stopping every few minutes to glance around. They saw his shoulders slump when he reached the end of the street, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. He wasn't creeping any more as he walked to the left and out of sight behind the buildings.

"Obscurus." Lucius muttered towards his feet, pleased when his shadow didn't reappear as he stepped out under the street light. Severus raised an eyebrow, but did the same.

They were unconcerned as they approached the corner the boy had disappeared around, knowing they probably wouldn't be able to find him again.

They weren't expecting to round the corner and come face to face with James carefully aiming his wand. Lucius didn't have time to even draw his wand before the stunner hit his chest at point blank and everything went black.

* * *

Narcissa was lounging on the sofa in the drawing room, the fire blazing and a book in hand. A glance at the clock on the mantle showed that it was nearing midnight.

Lucius had gone rushing off over four hours ago to go follow 'The Urchin' with Severus, and they hadn't even floo'd back yet.

Finally, the fire sparked green and Lucius came stumbling out of the flames. Narcissa immediately honed in on the fact that he was limping slightly even as Severus emerged out of the floo behind him.

The dark-haired man was covered in great nasty boils that were pulsing slightly.

"What happened to you two?" Narcissa asked, setting her book aside and arching an eyebrow as Lucius slowly lowered himself into an armchair.

"Dobby!" Lucius called. The elf popped into the room a second later. "I need some ice in a towel."

"And bring me a boil cure." Severus added, gingerly touching the pustules on his face.

"Are you going to make me ask again?" Narcissa drawled as the elf popped away.

"He's good. Very good. I won't be taken by surprise again." Lucius drawled, hissing with relief when the elf reappeared with his ice. He gingerly spread his legs and pressed the ice into his groin.

Narcissa listened intently as Severus calmly explained everything that had happened while he applied cream to the boils on his face. She stayed silent as the two men started talking excitedly, planning their next strategy.

She contemplated suggesting a much easier, simpler solution to figuring out 'The Urchins' identity, but decided against it. After all, both men were bored more often than not now-a-days.

'They're having fun.' She told herself. 'Why not let boys be boys?'


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter 6

James was very proud of himself—and he told Carl as much as he sat with the man in the long-term ward at the institution.

"I gave them the slip—even though they were using their magic to make themselves invisible. Then, when they figured out I was following them, I tricked them into a trap. It was bril, Carl. You should have seen it." James rocked his chair back, glancing around the room. There were few other visitors, and the patients tended to keep to themselves. The nurses flittered in and out, none of them paying any attention to him.

"I think I'm starting to like this magic bit—I'm going to find a way to help you. I've been reading up on potions, and they have all sorts of healing potions. It might take a while for me to find the right one, but I'll find it. Then, you'll be back to your old self and out of this hell-hole. I'm going to be gone for a while though. I'll make sure Dan, Lou and Thomas come and visit while I'm gone, and I'll visit during the holidays…"

James sighed, letting his chair click back to the ground with a 'thud.' "I'm scared, though. They're two different worlds—and I'm going to be trying to be a part of both. It doesn't seem like a lot of people in the wizarding world do that. I think most leave the Muggle world behind altogether. But I'm not going to do that. I'll never abandon you, or Thomas, or Dan or Lou!"

Carl remained quiet, staring ahead with his mouth open slightly.

"I can help you. I know I can." James stood up, kissing Carl's forehead softly and heading out. He stopped by the nurses' station, catching the attention of the head nurse on duty.

"Hey. Carl doesn't look too good. Is he having trouble eating?"

"He's starting to lose significant amounts of muscle-mass. That's fairly typical with patients who can't function." The nurse explained calmly. "That'll end after a while, and his weight will steady back out."

"Oh." James frowned. "So, if he ever got better he'd have a lot of physical therapy to get his strength back up then?"

The nurse blinked at him. "Honey. Carl isn't going to get better. I thought you knew that."

James flinched, looking down. "He's not going to get better with the medicines we have now. But they're coming out with new medicine all the time. Who knows what they'll be able to do next year, or five years from now. I'm not going to stop hoping until he's dead."

The nurse smiled at him, blinking over the tears that lit up her eyes. "You're such a sweet-heart. Of course it's okay to keep hoping."

James nodded. "I want you to do me a favor. I'm going to be going away in September—I'm going to boarding school. I won't be able to stop in and check on him. Make sure he's getting taken care of, alright?"

"I will, dear."

"Thanks." James sighed heavily, ducking his head at the tell-tale burning in his eyes. He left quickly, lighting up a fag as soon as he was off the hospital property. Several people shot him scandalized looks but he ignored them.

"There has to be a way." James muttered, slowly picking his way down the street. "I'll go to Gren's and look through the potions books—see if she has any healing books."

Dan had given him another stack of pounds to exchange at Gringotts, and James was fairly certain he was going to need another expanded bag at the rate he was going. Which probably wasn't a bad idea, anyways. He made a note to go back to Jiggers' and see about getting another satchel.

It was July 31—which meant that James had exactly one month left before he went off to Hogwarts. James had already started packing, though he had unpacked almost as soon as he'd started.

Dan and Lou seemed pleased that he staying off the streets—which irritated James to no end.

At the same time, he'd been entirely too busy keeping up with everything the wizarding world had to throw at him. Thomas had been kind of distant since James had been buried in his books and had turned down every invite to go with him to Diagon Alley behind Dan's back.

James finished his smoke, flicking it on the ground and descending into the underground. The tube was busy as hell, but he managed to squeeze onto the right train to take him to Tottenham Court Road. It was a hot and muggy day, and it was stifling pressed into the overcrowded subway car. That made James think longingly of the cloak in his bag. He wondered for a minute if he could get away with wearing it everywhere. After all, he was a kid and it was perfectly acceptable for kids to wear outrageous things.

But at the same time, that would be a direct violation of the Statute of Secrecy.

James finally was able to get off the tube and quickly made his way to The Leaky Cauldron. Tom's grin turned into a frown, however.

"Hey Laddy. Who hit you?"

James just shrugged, grinning roguishly. "Just a bit of a tussle."

Tom shook his head. "Boys. Just passing through today?"

"Nah. I'll have a bite." He sat down at a table in the corner where he could watch both entrances to the pub—three if you counted the fireplace. Tom was quick to bring him the special and a glass of iced pumpkin juice.

"Anything special you're buying today?""

James shook his head. "More books. I've just about finished all the one's I've bought so far."

Tom grinned again. "The professors are going to love you. No wonder Professor Snape's been asking about you."

"Snape?" James blinked. "Severus Snape? He's a professor?"

"Yeah. Teaches Potions. Not the most liked of the professors. He's pretty harsh, stern… but potions are dangerous if they're not brewed correctly…"

James nodded as Tom rushed off to serve a handful of witches that had just come in. He narrowed his eyes at his sandwich, taking a slow bite.

Batman was a Hogwarts professor?

What the hell was he doing stalking James then? And asking questions about him?

Oh. Crap. That was going to be awkward when it was revealed that James was actually Harry Potter.

James squirmed in his seat, going over every encounter he'd had with the man. He'd cursed at him plenty—jinxed him at least once…

Why hadn't the man said he was a professor? James had specifically asked what he did! Instead he'd just spouted 'I'm a Potions Master.' He'd been purposefully misleading!

But what was the point? What was Snape up to? He'd been following him and asking questions about him.

What was he trying to find out?

James' attention was suddenly snapped back to the pub when the largest man he'd ever seen came ambling in from the Muggle street. He was huge! Seriously! The man was at least twice as tall as a normal man, and three times as wide. His hair was long and matted, and his beard covered most of his face.

"Hagrid!" Tom grinned, flicking his wand so that an enormous mug zoomed to him. He caught it heavily and set it on the counter. "The usual?"

"Yeah." The giant man strode up to the counter, taking up two of the barstools as he sat down. "How yeh doin, Tom?"

"I'm doing good. You know me, as long as business is decent I'm happy." Tom grinned, pouring an entire bottle of firewhiskey into the giant mug. "How's business at Hogwarts?"

"Same old." Hagrid waved one of his large hands, taking a large gulp of his drink. "Kind of disappointed though—you know Dumbledore was going to have me pick up Harry Potter and take him shopping if he needed it. Lives with Muggles, you see. But apparently Harry d'nt ask for a guide."

James listened hard to the two men at the bar, pretending to be interested in digging in his bag.

"Well you'll be seeing him at school in a month." Tom patted the man's elbow, the highest point he could reach.

"Yer right. But I was hoping to see him today. It's his birthday today. And I haven't seen him since he was just a little tyke." Hagrid sighed, finishing off his drink. "He's eleven years old today."

"Why don't you send him something? A cake—or maybe a box of chocolate frogs! I'm sure he'd be glad you did."

Hagrid nodded, sniffing suspiciously. "I 'spose. It's just not the same, yeh know? I was really looking forward to seeing him again. Last time I saw him was that night, right after it happened. Flew him away from the house meself on a flying motorbike."

James blinked, eyes widening. He remembered that bike!

"Well it doesn't sound like it can be helped." Tom supplied. "Send him a card at least. Let him know who you are."

"I might just do tha'." Hagrid pulled out a few coins from his pocket, dropping them down on the counter. "I have ter run to Gringotts. Dumbledore has some important business for me to take care of."

James watched the giant of a man go, wondering vaguely what sort of magical accident happened to him to make him so big. There was a strange feeling in his gut—one he hadn't had since coming to the wizarding world, and one that made him feel sick.

How many people had known him when he was a baby? Hadn't his parent had friends? Family? Why the hell had he been abandoned to people like the Dursleys?

Wasn't there anyone willing to take him in after his parents died?

James shook his head, standing and forcing a smile while he paid the bill. His smile faded as he headed out back and into Diagon Alley.

It wasn't like James was unhappy with his life—on the contrary, he loved it. He loved Dan, Lou and Thomas like family. But he just couldn't understand why he had been left at the mercy of those lunatics when he was a baby, especially considering how the wizarding world seemed to regard Harry Potter.

James sighed heavily, making his way steadily to Gringotts and immediately heading to the right counter. There was no one in line to exchange, and the same goblin as before was at the counter.

"Hello again." James smiled warily as he placed the bills on the counter. "Need to exchange some money."

"Of course." The goblin counted out the money, immediately pulling the box out from under the counter. "692 pounds comes out to 171 Galleons, 2 Sickles and 28 Knuts. Do you need a new bag?"

James shook his head, scooping the coins into the bag he'd already been using for his wizarding money. "Thanks."

"Any time." The Goblin muttered gruffly, though James was fairly certain he looked pleased. Why, James had no idea.

Gren hardly even glanced up when James slipped into the store. "Back again, I see. What you looking for today?"

"Not sure, really. Just looking." James grinned. "Mostly I just wanted a chance to come say 'hello.'"

Gren was silent for a minute, regarding him. "Why?"

"Because I like you." James shrugged, slowly walking among the shelves and glancing at the different titles. "You're real 'down to business' and don't try to sell me something I don't want or need."

"I'm a hag." Gren snapped.

"That's not a very nice way to think of yourself." James quipped, unimpressed.

"A Hag is a creature, you idiot boy!"

James just smiled. "I know. I read that, already figured it out. You know, I can't really tell the difference between you and other people I've met. I don't see why it's a big deal."

Gren was silent for a minute, before breaking down laughing. James didn't try to stop her, though he kept looking over at her as she continued to laugh so hard she ended up in a quivering heap on the ground.

"You're the first person to think so." Gren shook her head, pulling back the hood on her cloak. James didn't bat an eyelash at the scarred, blistered appearance of her skin or her tangled, messy hair. Her teeth were pointed, and her eyes were cloudy and white. "You aren't repulsed by this?"

"Are you?" James asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because the way I see it, everyone has something they don't like about themselves. Whether it's something about the way they look, a bad habit, they snore… whatever… it doesn't matter."

Gren slowly pulled her hood back up, until her face was once again completely hidden. "What about you. What don't you like about yourself?"

"You want a list?" James shrugged, unconsciously rubbing at his arms. Gren slowly approached him, reaching out and taking one of his arms in her hands. She hesitated, giving James the chance to pull away before she slid the sleeve up slowly. The uniform line of scars on his forearm, the messier series of burns scattered over the whole of his arm, and a large gnarled scar near his elbow where a large chunk of skin had been ripped away when his arm had been caught under a lawn-mower stood out in vast contrast from his naturally tanned skin.

"What happened to you, deary?" Gren asked quietly, running a calloused hand over some of the scars before James flinched away.

"The people I lived with when I was a kid—they didn't much like me—or magic."

Gren was silent as James pulled his sleeve back down.

"I don't live with them anymore. I live with good people that like me and think magic is a gift."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, dear." Gren patted his arm. "I understand where you're coming from."

After that, she left him alone to browse the shelves. James had a hard time concentrating at first, he was too busy worrying whether or not Gren would mention his scars to anyone else. Then, he decided she wouldn't and he didn't really care if she did.

Looking at potions books left him fuming over Batman—_Professor_ Snape—fucking tosser that he was. James was surprised the man hadn't already swooped down on him in the bookstore. He'd damn near appeared out of thin air every time he'd stepped foot in the magical world.

"That man—Severus Snape? Do you know why he'd be following me?" James suddenly abandoned the shelves, though he already had a stack of four books.

"Severus? Has he been following you?"

"Yes. Twice now. Last time with his friend—Malfoy or something."

"I don't know what that's about." Gren shrugged. "I do know you've been drawing a lot of attention. What with besting Greyback—twice now, am I right? Add the fact that you're the only child that comes to Knockturne Alley, you've befriended a Hag, and you've probably insulted a good deal of people so far—well let's just say some people might be incredibly fascinated by you. Severus relishes a mystery."

"So, what? He's trying to solve me?"

"I believe he has questions about where you came from." Gren shrugged again. "Why don't you go ask him? He works right across the way at Wings, Stings and Things. He'll be upstairs in the potions lab."

James glanced towards the window, calculating in his head. So far the man hadn't hurt him—he'd had plenty of opportunity. "I'll think about it."

"He's no danger to you, if that's what you're thinking. I guarantee he'd not following you with bad intent, either. He probably doesn't realize you know he's following you."

"Oh. He knows. I walked him into a trap and hexed him."

"You hexed Severus Snape?" Gren whistled. "What you hit him with?"

"Either Furnunculus or Stupify—I couldn't tell which actually hit."

Gren laughed softly. "You have balls kid."

* * *

"Anything?" Severus glanced up from his cauldron, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

"He hasn't left the shop." Lucius muttered, staring drolly out the window. "Is this really necessary?"

"Probably not, but we don't want to miss him."

"What are we going to try this time then?" Lucius asked, moving over to the table where Severus was busy chopping up leeches.

"A tracking charm. Not on him—it's not legal and I'm certain he'd know if we cast a spell on him. On something he's carrying."

"Right. So, you distract him and I'll place a tracking charm on his pants. Is that about right?"

Severus rolled his eyes, carefully measuring the sliced leeches into three different parts and putting the first part in the cauldron. The orange potion turned opaque white, and pearly smoke rose off the top. "No. I'm just saying, if we have the opportunity."

"Right." Lucius went back to his chair by the window with a huff. He glanced down at the street, seeing no sign of the boy. "What are we going to do if we do manage to successfully follow him without him noticing us or giving us the slip?"

"We're going to find out who he is."

"Of course—silly me." Lucius shook his head, leaning his elbow on the window sill. "Is that all we're trying to find out? His identity?"

"And his home situation. If our suspicions are correct, he doesn't have many rules to follow."

"Such a crime that—parents who don't give their children enough rules."

Severus straightened up, stirring his potion feverishly and glaring at Lucius. "Parents don't seem to be a part of the equation. He hasn't mentioned parents, and has only mentioned an uncle. And while leniency may not be a crime, neglect is. An eleven year old shouldn't be out after dark by himself—let alone roving the city until early morning."

"I'll agree with that. But what can we do about it?"

"If it's bad enough, we report it to the Department of Children's Welfare." Severus' eyes narrowed on his potion as he started adding fennel seeds one at a time. "Granted—it might not be the guardians' fault. Maybe he's a runaway."

"Perhaps." Lucius ran a finger down the grimy window, scrunching his nose in disgust when the tip of his finger turned black. He pulled out his wand and cleaned the window with a careless flick. "Any ideas who he is yet? It would be so much easier if we had a real name to go on."

"I looked over the list again." Severus swept his hair back with the back of his hand. "There's no James on it—not even Surname."

"And middle names?"

"Only first and last on the list." Severus frowned. "At the very latest I'll find out who he is at the sorting."

"Right. So until we know otherwise, we'll assume that James is an adopted name that doesn't tie him to anything." Lucius turned back to the window, frowning when he noticed Gren busily locking the shop up. "Severus? I don't think he's in the book shop."

"Is this what you two do all day? Sit around trying to figure out my name and watching me through the window? At least when you're not busy stalking me."

Both men whipped towards the open door, where James was leaning casually against the frame. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he smirked as they startled. His green eyes bored into Severus as he slowly came into the room.

"So this is Potions, huh? Looks bloody disgusting." He scrunched his nose and prodded a leech, shuddering and quickly wiping his finger off on his pants. "And people actually drink this stuff?"

"You'll soon find that the benefits far outweigh any discomfort over the ingredients." Severus chided grimly, pausing in his stirring only long enough to smack the boys hand away from the potion. "Do not touch that. Potions can be very volatile. Small mistakes and interruptions can result in poisoning, explosion, or clouds of toxic gas."

"Huh… That's more exciting than I thought."

"What did you get at Gren's?" Lucius asked calmly, eyeing the books in the boy's arms. There were four of them.

"Oh. Here." James walked across the small space and deposited them in Lucius' lap before quickly returning to the table and watching as Severus added the next batch of sliced leeches.

Lucius glanced through the books, raising an eyebrow. "_Standard Book of Spells Grade 4, Beginner's Runes_, _Basic Healing Spells_, and _Introduction to Protective Wards_? Aiming high, are you?"

"Runes looks interesting, and I like the idea of the Wards—besides, if you read up on wards most of them need runes. So those two go hand in hand. I've gone through my copy of _Standard Book of Spells_ _Grade 1-3_, and I figure the sooner I learn some basic healing spells the better off I'll be." James shrugged, still not taking his eyes off the cauldron that had just shifted to a deep purple, with darker streaks appearing in it as Severus stirred it clockwise. "I did read those books you recommended to me—they helped. But you're right. _Actions and Reactions_ is bloody boring."

Severus smirked slightly, but didn't answer.

"So. Are you going to tell me why you two are stalking me or are you just going to leave it to my imagination? I promise my imagination is not the—_cleanest —_of places. And I'm a pessimist, so I'll think the worst."

"Is that so? I promise we wish you no harm." Severus replied shortly, black eyes flickering up to stare at the boy. Green eyes met his evenly.

"Because you know, if you're going through all this trouble just to learn my name… Wouldn't it be easier just to ask?"

Lucius kept an eye on the boy, slipping out his wand and silently tapping it on two of the books. The charms book and the healing book both had tracking spells on them. He didn't dare do all of them, because the combined magic would make them glow like a beacon to anyone sensitive to magic—which James was.

"And would you tell me if I asked?"

"I've already told you my name." James appeared not to have noticed Lucius at all, and the blonde settled himself in reading the text on Wards. It was highly fascinating, though the skill level required for wards was much higher than any eleven year old had hopes of achieving.

"James is not really your name." Severus pointed out, turning his attention back to his bubbling cauldron.

"Yes, actually. It is."

"It's a middle name, then. What is your given name?"

"Now why would I tell you that and spoil the game? You won't tell me why you're following me." James huffed, glancing back at Lucius. "I don't suppose you'll tell me?"

"I'm bored." Lucius drawled slowly. "I find the game entertaining."

"Right." James walked up to him, reaching out for his books. Lucius handed them over without question. He had to swallow back his smirk when the boy slipped them into his bag. "Let the games begin again. Barbie. Batman." The boy nodded to each man in turn before sweeping out of the room.

"Cheeky Little Street Urchin." Severus mumbled, glaring at the doorway James had just disappeared through.

"Yes. But he's our Cheeky Little Street Urchin." Lucius calmly pointed out, turning to the window and watching the boy walk back towards Diagon Alley. "I placed a tracking charm on his books."

"Excellent. We'll wait a few hours before going after him. He'll be suspicious right now."

"And you wish to finish your potion." Lucius sneered, eyes on the now calico mixture. "What are you making, by the way?"

"I'm trying to alter the Draught of Peace to reduce the hangover effect."

"I see. Are you making progress?"

"I believe so. Either there will be less of a hangover, or it will turn a person's skin green."

"Lovely."

* * *

A few hours later, Severus cleaned up the lab and locked up. His potion was a bust, but that wasn't really anything too unexpected.

He was meeting Lucius in The Leaky Cauldron in fifteen minutes

Gren was standing in the door to her shop, motioning him over when he stepped into the street.

"What is it?" Severus asked gruffly as he approached the old hag. "I am on a schedule."

"What are your intentions towards James?"

Severus blinked. "Why do you want to know?"

"Severus. I know you aren't going to hurt him on purpose, but you are not known for your sympathy or compassion."

"What is your point?"

"That boy doesn't have a happy past." Gren muttered. "Just remember that before you interfere too much."

Severus was silent for a minute, rolling that over. Gren's concept of 'unhappy' was downright morbid—so for her to say that the boy's past was 'unhappy' was actually quite profound. "What do you know?"

"I don't know a thing." Gren shrugged, opening the door to her shop. Before she disappeared inside, she lifted her hood a bit to look Severus in the eye. "There is a reason that boy is so guarded—keep that in mind. Don't dig into his private affairs if you aren't fully prepared for what you might find."

Severus suppressed a shudder at the small glimpse he had of the hags face. "This loyalty you're showing him is unprecedented."

"So is his attitude towards me. He's the first person to look me in the eye and honestly tell me he's not bothered by what I am." Gren let her hood fall back down to cover her face again. "What kind of life do you think an eleven year-old had to lead to be able to look past the superficial and make honest judgments on people based on what matters?"

Severus didn't have an answer to that, and Gren seemed to know it because she slipped into the shop and let the door fall closed behind her without another word.

Glancing at his watch, Severus quickly left Knockturne. Lucius was already waiting for him, looking rather impatient as he stood by the door.

"Took you long enough." Lucius sneered, throwing a glance at the watch in his hand before snapping it closed and stuffing it back in his pocket.

"I was having a talk with Gren about our Little Street Urchin." Severus muttered, leading the way out of the pub and into the Muggle street.

"Did she have anything enlightening to say?"

"She warned me not to push too far." Severus snorted. "She doesn't want us to _hurt_ him unintentionally."

"As if that will happen—the boy's far too devious for that."

"I am inclined to agree—but she seems to think his past is unhappy." Severus waited for Lucius to process that, wondering if the blonde was familiar enough with the hag to realize how skewed her basis for comparison was.

"Unhappy how?"

"She didn't say. But Gren doesn't believe in a normal scale of happiness—what she considers unhappy, most people would consider deep despair."

"Hmm." Lucius shook his head. "That makes no sense—the child shows the typical signs of a spoiled upbringing."

"Truthfully." Severus agreed. "He could easily give Draco a run for his money."

Lucius glared at that, but it was half-hearted. They both knew that Lucius lacked his own father's stern, disciplinarian methods of parenting and Narcissa could be downright soft.

"It is possible that he had an unhappy childhood." Severus mused quietly, more to himself than to Lucius. "If he was removed from an abusive household, and the abuse was severe enough it is likely that whoever cared for him afterwards couldn't bear to punish him. After all, it is incredibly difficult to discipline a child that has been subjected to cruel forms of punishment—restrictions and the like have very little effect, and it is probable that his guardians were unable to figure out a decent method that wasn't reminiscent of the treatment he received before."

Lucius snorted. "If the boy had been treated that poorly, don't you think there would be signs other than his spoiled, arrogant demeanor?"

"I am inclined to agree with you. I was just hypothesizing based on Gren's remarks." Severus shook his head. "We are getting side-tracked. Enable that tracking charm already."

Lucius grumbled, but did as Severus said. He surreptitiously checked that no Muggles were paying attention before bringing out his wand and muttering the locator spell that keyed into the first book he had charmed. "North-west."

Severus nodded, keeping stride with Lucius as they slowly followed the direction the spell pointed. It was slow going, as they had to work their way around the monstrous Muggle buildings and adjust their direction accordingly. After nearly an hour, but spell started directing Lucius' wands in wider movements as their own motions took them either closer or further off course.

"We're getting close." Lucius commented, arching an eyebrow when they tried to circle a large metal warehouse and the wand circled around to point at it again. "He's in there?"

"Must be." Severus surveyed the building, circling it slowly and arching an eyebrow when he found a broken window directly over a large dumpster. "I retract my previous statement. It is highly possible that he does not have an adult presence in his life."

It took a bit for the two men to climb into the window, Lucius grumbling so much that Severus had to cast a silencing spell on the blond.

From there, they scoured the building. Somewhere in the middle, they reached a point where Lucius' wand spun out of control, and they glanced at the ceiling in tandem.

"Upstairs then." Severus whispered, and Lucius nodded towards the far corner where a pair of rickety stairs led to the next level. It was the same process on the second floor, and finally they were on the third and topmost floor.

The floor creaked uncomfortably under them as they crept across the dusty, vacant space. There was very little light shining in from the filthy, broken windows and their eyes lingered a little too much in each shadow. Finally, they saw a dark figure on the ground and slowly approached. The person was small, curled up under a blanket and Severus cleared his throat loudly. "James?"

There was no response, and Lucius kneeled next to the figure. His hand shook a bit as he reached to pull the blanket back. Underneath the ratty wool blanket was a pile of rubble, and perched neatly on top was a book. _Standard Book of Spells Grade 4_—a piece of paper was sticking out of the front cover and Lucius growled as he snatched it up.

"Lumos." His wand blazed bright white before settling down to a less abrasive level. Lucius blinked for a minute before narrowing his eyes at the words sloppily scrawled across the page. Severus leaned in to read over his shoulder.

_Barbie,_

_Better luck next time. _

_James_

_PS. You owe me a new copy of Standard Book of Spells Grade 4_

_PPS. Don't mess with my fucking books asshole! And tell Batman that means him too!_

Severus couldn't suppress a chuckle while Lucius trembled with rage. "I do believe we have underestimated him again. We need to pull out all the stops."

"Indeed." Lucius snatched the book up and pocketed it, along with the note. "I am impressed by this Little Street Urchin, even if he continually rubs me the wrong way. Never mind—the other tracking charm I used was dormant. He probably noticed me placing this charm."

Severus didn't argue, though he found it unlikely that the kid would have noticed Lucius placing the spells. Severus hadn't noticed himself.

Lucius muttered the spell to activate the charm, sighing when his wand started spinning in his hand. He glanced upwards. "Accio book!"

The book flew down from the rafters, landing with a 'thump' at their feet. _Basic Healing Spells_ also had a note sticking out of the cover.

_FAIL!_

"We really need to step it up a notch, don't you think?" Lucius said dryly.

"Indeed, we do."


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter 7

James was eating breakfast with Dan, Lou and Thomas, excitedly telling them about the healing magic he was reading about.

"And that's just the healing spells! They have all sorts of potions that heal everything! There's potions that will regrow bones, potions that can regrow your whole arm—I'm certain there will be a potion to heal Carl's brain!"

Dan and Lou were silent at that, exchanging a look while Thomas stared at his dinner blankly.

"Well? Aren't you guys excited about this?"

"We are." Dan said finally, not quite meeting James' eyes.

"No. You aren't. What aren't you telling me?"

Dan shifted uneasily, sharing another look with Lou. "Have you considered that even if you fix Carl's mind, there's still going to be other damage. His brain was ravaged, James. He might not have any memories—and his body is going to be in a sad state from sitting for so long."

James frowned. "So. They can fix that—the body part. I don't know about the memories… But even if he doesn't remember anything, isn't it better to be all _there_ than being a vegetable like that?"

"Yes." Lou supplied gruffly. "But you should be prepared for the worst, James. I don't want you to be disappointed. You also have to consider that Carl doesn't have a lot of time—people in his condition generally don't live long. He might not last for as long as it takes you to find his cure."

James slammed his hands on the table, standing abruptly. "What is with you guys! It's like you don't want me to even try! Well, I'm going to try—and I'm not going to give up until I know there's nothing I can do! I can give him potions to keep his body healthy right now, and I'm going to learn potions if it kills me! If I can't make the right potion myself, I'll find someone who can and pay them to do it for me!"

Dan held up his hands. "We're not trying to stop you, Jamie. We just don't want you to be heart-broken if it doesn't work. You have to be prepared for the possibility. That's all we're saying."

James slammed his hands on the table again, breathing heavily. He marched back to his room, snatching up the leather satchel and flinging it over his shoulder. His shoes were by the door, and he slipped his feet in without tying them.

"I'm going back—don't know when I'll be home." Without waiting for a response, he was out the door. No one came after him, and James scowled as he stomped down the stairs.

Things were getting weirder, the closer it got to September. Dan and Lou were being close-lipped about business, and Thomas hardly talked to him at all—he also wouldn't talk about business. They wouldn't let him go to HQ at all, and they'd stopped telling him about meetings and such.

The one thing that James did manage to glean was that business was picking up now that some of their customers weren't getting scared away by the 'freaky, supernatural kid.'

James realized he was crying when he tasted the snot on his top lip, angrily wiping at his face. Was he back to being a 'freak' then?

Huffing, James wiped his face one last time before running the rest of the way to the tube. He seamlessly got through the turnstile and slipped onto the right train to go to Tottenham Court Road. The tube wasn't too crowded, it was the perfect time between the morning work-rush and the lunch rush, and James managed to snag a seat.

There was gum stuck to the floor beneath his feet, and James stared at it even as he leant over to lace up his trainers. His nose was stuffed up, and he was pretty sure his eyes were red from crying.

'Great. I probably look like some nancy-boy crybaby.' James huffed, straightening up and glaring around. No one was paying him any attention, which was just fine by him.

Once he was off the tube and in the open air, James plopped down on a curb and lit a cigarette. Like always, he ignored the stares he received because of this. Instead, he mulled over what he needed to do.

He had to find out what potions Carl needed now—then he had to find a way to get them. Did they sell pre-made potions? He'd have to ask Gren.

Nodding to himself, James took another long drag from his fag and arched an eyebrow at an old couple that was staring at him. "Take a picture—it'll last longer!"

The couple started, muttering to each other as they slowly moved on. James rolled his eyes. You'd think they had never seen a hoodlum before.

When his cigarette was down to the filter, he tossed it on the ground and stood up, brushing the back of his pants off and heading down the street. The Leaky Cauldron came slowly into view, and he ducked in the door with no problems.

"Back again, Laddy? At this rate you're going to run out of books you haven't read."

James resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the barkeep. "Yeah. Then they'll just have to write new ones, won't they?"

Tom chuckled, wiping a glass with a rag. "Just passing through?"

"Yeah. I just ate." James wasn't at all apologetic as he immediately went to the back and whipped out his wand. He shifted from one foot to the other as the archway slowly appeared in the brick wall and quickly walked up the alley.

Today, he was hyper aware that people were staring at him. He'd known before that he attracted a lot of attention—word had gotten around about the 'mysterious' James that had a bad attitude and 'picked fights' with Greyback. James snorted, rolling his eyes at a woman with a young kid when she pulled the little boy closer to her side as James passed. Really, what did they think he would do?

He was almost tempted to bark at her just to see how she would react.

James forced himself to ignore them, even as he felt the burning of their gazes like the sun on the back of his neck. So what? So what if he was a freak here, just like he was everywhere else?

It was a relief to get to Knockturne Alley, where there weren't enough people to make him feel like he should be in an exhibit at the zoo—and most of the people there were too busy to even bat an eyelash at him anymore. There was another customer in Gren's shop—though James ignored him completely as he browsed through the section Gren had explained as being 'darker than average.'

"Hello, dear." Gren nodded to him, and James gave her a smile. "I have something for you." She slipped behind the counter, pulling three books off the shelf behind her. "Severus dropped them off a couple of days ago—wants me to assure you that they aren't tampered with."

James approached the counter, taking the books and shifting through them. Aside from the two books he'd abandoned in the warehouse, there was also a book titled _Practical Runes_. It was a new book—the pages crisp and unbent.

"That's a new book, just came out this spring. Don't think the Hogwarts library even has a copy yet." Gren explained.

James smiled. "And this is for me?"

"I think it's meant as an apology—they do know how serious you take your literature." Gren shrugged. "What are you looking for today?"

"Potions. I want to know what potions to give to a person that's been too sick to move for a long time to stop their muscles from going bad and to keep them healthy."

Gren was silent for a minute, before walking calmly to the potions section. She pulled down a massive book and handed it wordlessly to James.

"_Which Brew: An Encyclopedia of Medicinal Potions Detailing Their Uses and Where to Find the Recipe_." James flipped the volume open, skimming the table of contents.

"In the index, look up muscular atrophy." Gren supplied. James struggled with the huge book in his arms, nearly dropping it as he flipped to the back and looked up the term. There were seven different potions listed under it, and he grimaced as he flipped through the book to look at them.

"Some of those will probably be obsolete because of the ingredients required, and some will be more expensive than others to brew. You should ask Severus which he would recommend."

James nodded, looking at the book and wincing at the price. Fourteen Galleons.

"You don't need the whole book—and it wouldn't make sense to buy something like this unless you're a Potions Master. Just jot down the information you need and put it back on the shelf." Gren waved her wand, summoning a piece of parchment and a quill.

"Thanks." James took the parchment, raising an eyebrow at the foreign writing tool. "Do they really still use these? Will I have to use them?"

"Of course you will. Have you not stocked up on parchment, quills and ink then?"

James shook his head, instead reaching into his bag and pulling out a ball-point pen. "I was really hoping I'd be able to use this still."

Gren took the pen, examining it carefully. She watched as James took another one out of his bag and started jotting down the names of potions, flipping through the book to look up the details and sometimes crossing one off. After a while, he had a long list of different anti-atrophy potions and nutrition potions.

"That is an interesting device. What do you call it?"

James blinked up at her, staring at the pen she was still examining carefully. "Oh. It's a pen. Muggles use them all the time."

"Where does the ink come from?"

"It's stored inside. You can keep that if you want—they come in big packs. They don't last forever, and you can't refill them or anything but they're really cheap."

"Don't they dry up?"

"Sometimes, but not if you use it often enough." James shrugged. "I've got a whole bunch of them—I can leave you a few if you want."

Gren just nodded, summoning another piece of parchment to test the pen on. She seemed pleased with the result. "That's convenient—much simpler than a quill and ink."

James nodded, grinning. "Do you think they would let me use them at Hogwarts? Or are they going to make me use those bloody feathers?"

"I don't know. You'd best be stocked up on quills and ink, though. And parchment as well."

James nodded, grimacing. He stood up, struggling to lift the book back onto the shelf. "Right. Well, I'd better get going. I'll be back soon, though. Here!" He fished another three pens out of his bag and handed them to Gren. "I'll bring you some more the next time I come."

"Thank you." Gren examined the small handful of pens, picking out the red one. "They come in different colors?"

"Yeah. You can get just about any color you want."

"That is interesting. A Muggle thing, you said?"

"Yeah—at least I haven't seen anything like it around here." James shrugged again, folding his list up and slipping it into his pocket. "I'll see you later!"

"Goodbye, James." Gren walked him to the door, ruffling his hair as he left the shop. James turned and grinned at her before heading across the road to the apothecary and slipping in the door.

"What do you want?" The man behind the counter wasn't very old, but he looked gruff and un-kept. His hair was short, but stuck in every direction and quite a bit of stubble marred his otherwise smooth face.

"I'm looking for Severus Snape." James said, looking around the shop. Ingredients lined the shelves, and behind the counter there were rows of pre-made potions.

"He's not here."

"Oh." James frowned. "You sell pre-made potions, right?"

"Of course. Why else would I hire a Potions Master?"

"I don't know, why would you?" James snapped, pulling his list out of his pocket. "Got any of these?"

The man took the list, eyebrows rising to his hairline as he read it over. "I've got several—what do you need them for?"

"My uncle—he's been sick for a long time."

"Right." The man turned to the shelf behind him, glancing at the list. "In the anti-atrophy potion, do you want the longer-lasting ones or the cheaper ones?"

"Er… What's the price on the long-lasting ones?"

"31 Galleons. They come with six doses that you administer once a week."

"And the cheaper ones?"

"19 Galleons, and they come with twelve doses that you administer every day."

James blinked, quickly doing the math. "I'll take the better one then."

"Just one bottle?"

"Er… how much for the nutrition potion?"

"Those are standard—12 Galleons for a bottle with 12 doses that can be administered when needed, no more than twice a day."

James frowned, thinking it over and digging in his bag to find his money pouch. He quickly counted out his Galleons. "Right. I'll take two bottles of the anti-atrophy and two bottles of the nutrition potion."

The man nodded, seeming pleased as he fished the right bottles down. There were hand-written labels on them with their dosing instructions and warnings. "That will be 86 Galleons."

James counted out the Galleons, picking up one of the bottles of the anti-atrophy potion and reading the instructions. One teaspoon, once a week. That was easy enough. He'd have to get Lou to visit Carl and give him the doses once he was gone to school.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. Thank you." James grinned at the man, seeming to throw him as he stashed the bottles safely in his bag. "This helps a lot."

The man didn't reply, just stared at James as he left the shop.

James mentally calculated how much money he had left as he walked back through Diagon Alley, slipping into the stationary shop. The woman working there was bright and bubbly, gladly helping James pick out parchment that wasn't too thin, quills that held the best point, and ink that would dry quickly and not smear too much. After that, he headed back through The Leaky Cauldron and to the subway station.

* * *

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his Muggle slacks and short-sleeved button up. He wasn't used to being so under-dressed. His usual black hair was shortened, and lightened to a light brown and his facial features had been softened and changed using a glamour potion. He felt vulnerable, having taken a magic-dampening potion.

Lucius was standing next to him, glamoured to look like a blond woman—he was wearing a modest, knee-length skirt and a button up blouse. His blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, and his grey eyes had been changed to blue. The blonde kept shooting him dirty looks, even as he pretended to be just as interested in the contents of the shop window as Severus. They could see the entrance to The Leaky Cauldron in the reflection of the glass, and were waiting for James to reappear.

Tom had sent Severus a note that James had come through, and Severus had immediately floo'd to Malfoy Manor. They took the pre-made glamour potions, and apparated a few blocks away to a common apparition point before taking the magic-dampeners.

"This is stupid." Lucius muttered, his magically altered voice deep and melodious, though distinctly feminine.

"We said we had to pull out all the stops—we can't exactly use magical tracking techniques without getting into the illegal means… Ergo, we have to fit in and follow him the old fashioned way." Severus muttered, his own voice more gravelly than he was used to.

"That doesn't mean I have to like being dressed up like some Muggle floozy." Lucius muttered. "What if someone recognizes me?"

"They won't." Severus said flatly, patting his pocket for the umpteenth time to make sure they had extra glamour potions. To be safe, they intended to change their appearance half-way through. It would be suspicious if the same couple that was outside The Leaky Cauldron was on every train and street James passed.

"There he is." Severus casually turned away from the window, using the grip Lucius had on his arm to pull him around as they strolled down the street after the boy. He was headed straight for the underground, walking leisurely. He didn't look around or stiffen when they got closer.

"I think it's working." Lucius muttered. "Don't you think, _dear_?"

"Of course, Sweetie." Severus drawled, grimacing when Lucius squeezed his arm mercilessly. He responded by slipping his arm behind the blond and giving his arse a squeeze—hard.

"Don't you think that's getting a little carried away?" Lucius growled, returning the favor. Severus didn't reply, simply leading the way into the underground. They had their subway tickets ready, and slipped through the turnstiles with ease. James still showed no signs of noticing them, leaning against one of the columns in front of the platform where a train had yet to pull up. Severus and Lucius ambled up to the platform a ways away from him, careful not to stare.

"We should go out tonight!" Lucius giggled slightly, and only because of experience could Severus see the murderous gleam in the blondes' eye as he leaned over to whisper seductively in Severus' ear. "We could go to the theatre, and then have dinner—we'll go home for dessert, of course."

"Whatever you want, dear." Severus smiled at 'her' in return, noticing Lucius' eyes flick towards the boy. A slight shake of the head let Severus know that James hadn't caught on. They were safe—for now.

When the train pulled in, they got in the car from the opposite door James used, standing near the back close together where they could see James without having to look for him. The boy was frowning down at the floor, completely closed off from his surroundings.

"He doesn't look very happy, does he?" Lucius muttered, slipping a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Wonder what's got him in a tizzy?"

"We'll find out, wont we?" Severus replied, carefully observing the boy out of the corner of his eye. He half-expected the boy to rush out of the door at the last minute, and felt smug when the doors closed and James was still standing there expectantly, waiting for the train to leave.

"It worked." Lucius hissed in his ear, and Severus rolled his eyes.

"I can see that, _darling_."

They were silent for the ride, watching James carefully for any signs of flight each time the train stopped and the doors opened. After four stops, the boy stood—rearranging his bag and moving towards the door. They did the same with the opposite door.

Severus fished the first set of potions out of his pocket, slyly slipping one to Lucius. As the doors slid open again, they quickly downed them before stepping off. No one noticed their appearance changing—Severus had brewed in specific notice-me-not properties into the brew. They kept out of sight of James while this was happening, and followed him to another platform where he was waiting for the train to offload.

Still, James didn't bat an eyelash as they boarded the second train after him—ending up only a few paces away. They were too close to risk talking, and held onto the overhead rails in silence.

Finally, after another six stops the boy moved towards the exit, slipping easily through the crowd. Severus and Lucius followed at a distance, taking a third dose of the glamour potion as they climbed out of the underground.

Severus was surprised when the boy led the way into the Hospital district.

It was only a few minutes before James was striding into one of the hospital buildings like he'd been there a hundred times. Lucius and Severus exchanged a look, following the boy into the building.

James kept staring at the ground as he went to one of the lifts, pressing the 'up' button and stepping on the elevator. Severus and Lucius followed the boy onto the lift, eyeing the button he pressed carefully.

"What floor?" James asked politely, hand still lingering over where he had just pressed the number '4.'

"Seven." Severus supplied smoothly, and James easily hit the button before sticking his hands in his pockets. The boy rocked back and forth a few times while the elevator slowly rose.

The second the boy was out of the elevator, Severus handed Lucius his final dose of the glamour potion and chugged his own. When the lift reached the seventh floor, he hit the '4' button and they waited while they slowly went back down.

"Hope we didn't lose him." Lucius muttered as Severus looked carefully around the hospital wing. It was a long-term ward, and he followed the sign pointing towards 'visitors section.' Sure enough, they caught sight of James walking slowly down the hallway, nodding at the nurses in the nurses' station.

They followed at a slower pace, and Severus wracked his brain quickly before coming up with a plan. There was a very large, comfortable sitting room on the other side of a wide glass window. They caught sight of James taking a seat in one corner, apparently waiting.

"Can I help you?" Severus turned to the nurse that addressed him. "Yes. My wife and I are looking for a good place for my mother—her dementia is getting bad, and we don't have the ability to take care of her in our home any longer. I am not fond of sending her blindly to an institution, and was wondering if you mind us taking a look around."

The nurse blinked at him. "Of course—you'll have to be escorted by a nurse if you want to see the patient rooms, but fill free to check out the visiting room. I'll have to ask you not to bother the patients, but feel free to ask any visiting family member about our facility."

Severus nodded. "Thank you." He led Lucius into the visiting room, pretending to look around curiously. It was quite a nice facility, from what he could see. He didn't look directly at James as they slowly circled the room. A nurse had just wheeled a man over to the boy in a wheelchair, and James moved his chair closer to the man.

Severus noted that the boy automatically took the man's hand, before a subtle shimmer made him realize that some sort of notice-me-not charm was in place. He glanced around, taking note that not a single person seemed to be able to see the boy anymore, and no one was alarmed at their sudden disappearance. A glance at Lucius showed that he had noticed as well, and they pretended not to see James either as they circled around and took a seat close to him, talking seriously about what questions they wanted to ask the nurses, the whole while really listening as the boy started talking to the unresponsive man.

"Hey Carl. I brought you some medicine—it'll help with the muscle problems. Mind you, it probably tastes like shit—potions are made with all sorts of disgusting things." James was saying, completely ignoring the couple sitting close to him and talking quietly among themselves. He rummaged in his bag, pulling out the bottle and reading the label. He opened it, taking a whiff and scrunching his nose in disgust. "I hope this doesn't taste as bad as it smells."

He dabbed a bit with his finger, putting it to his mouth. "Yuck!"

Severus' had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, and noticed Lucius' eyes shining with mirth as well.

"Right. So I'm sorry about this. It tastes worse than it smells. But it will help, I promise." James carefully poured a capful, tilting Carl's head back and pouring the liquid into his gaping mouth. The man didn't react at all, though he swallowed easily when James massaged his throat.

"That's the first one—hopefully the nutrition potion tastes better. I don't have high hopes for that, though. They use leeches and slugs and bat parts in these things." The boy shuddered in disgust, carefully putting the cap back on the bottle and pulling out another.

Severus realized with a start that the boy was using _his_ potions.

"Well—this one smells better at least." James explained, tasting a drop of it as well. He scrunched his nose, but shrugged. "Tastes like chalk—loads better than the other one."

The boy poured a dose of the second potion, repeating the process on the unresponsive man.

"There! I'll be back next week to give you another dose, and the week after. When I'm gone, I'll make sure Lou comes down to keep it up. That way, when I find the right potion to fix your brain you won't be all weak and sickly. How does that sound?"

Carl didn't respond at all, just staring blankly ahead with his mouth hanging open. James seemed unperturbed by that, continuing his narrative without pausing.

"Dan and Lou and Thomas are being right gits, you know that? Ever since I got that letter, things have been different. I've been so busy trying to learn everything about the wizarding world, and it's like they don't even care that I'm not with them anymore. It's like they're glad I'm out of their hair." James paused at that, looking around carefully to make sure no one was listening.

"I don't know, honey. You're mother isn't quite as bad as all that—this might be a little extreme for her case." Lucius continued the fake conversation seamlessly.

"I know, but she's going downhill fast." Severus countered, pleased when the boy continued talking.

"I know they're not doing it on purpose—but when I talked to Lou the other day he mentioned that business was doing really good now that I'm not 'helping.'" James sniffed a bit, and Severus realized belatedly that the boy was crying. "He told me that I've been scaring off customers—because I'm a freak! Well, he didn't use _that word_… But that's what he meant."

James scooted closer to the man, leaning his head on his shoulder. "I remember what you told me—I'm not a freak. Having magic doesn't make me a freak, like _they_ made me believe. It's a gift. But sometimes it's hard to remember that. Especially when I know that other people are thinking it."

James fell silent, crying steadily and wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I just don't know what to do—remember when I told you I was scared because I don't know if I'm going to be able to live in both worlds? Well, it's happening already. You know, Thomas won't even look at me anymore? I think he's scared of me. But it just makes no sense—I mean, I've been doing all sorts of weird stuff for ages, and he knows I don't use my gift against him except on accident. Or maybe he's scared because of all that anti-Muggle stuff in the magical world. See, there's a lot of people that don't like Muggles, or Muggle-borns. There was a nasty war about it just over ten years ago."

Carl's head lolled to the side, and James straightened up. The boy tenderly righted the man's head to a more comfortable angle. "Don't do that—you'll get a kink in your neck."

Severus was getting distinctly uncomfortable, and could tell that Lucius was too. Gren had warned them not to pry if they weren't ready for the answers—granted they weren't really getting any answers to the questions they wanted to know. But they were getting a lot of information.

"I don't know what's wrong." James sighed heavily, folding his hands in his lap and looking down at the floor. "Maybe I'm just upset because of nothing. But I'm just starting to feel weird around Dan and Lou and Thomas—like they aren't comfortable around me anymore. Last week, I was practicing some spells and Dan got really mad because I lit the carpet on fire—he's forbidden me from practicing in the flat any more, even after I fixed it. He said it's dangerous…"

James sniffed again, taking the man's hand in his own. "But I'm not dangerous—you know I'm not. I wouldn't hurt them! And I'm super careful. And then they're all like 'don't get your hopes up' when I tell them that I can help you—it's like they don't want me to help you. I don't understand? Wouldn't they want you to get better?"

The boy rubbed his face angrily. "Maybe I'm doing something wrong—maybe they think that I'm so desperate to help you because I don't like being with them? But they know I love them! I know they do!"

Severus nodded to Lucius, pulling 'her' up and they slowly left the visitors wing. The nurses were all rather busy, so no one paid them any attention as they slowly left the building.

"What was—sad." Lucius muttered when they were finally back in the street.

"It was." Severus agreed, shifting uncomfortably. "And it was absolutely useless—we still don't know his real name."

"I think the nurse called him James—so whether or not that is the name on the list, that's the name he goes by. For all intents and purposes, it is his real name."

Severus nodded, leading Lucius a little ways down the street and pulling him down on a bench. They were still in character, watching the entrance for any sign of the boy. "I hope you don't mind that we left. I was getting—over emotional." He could feel the heat rise to his face as he made that confession.

Lucius didn't look at him, however. Instead, he surveyed the ground as he quietly admitted, "So was I."

They were silent after that, just watching from a distance as James emerged from the hospital, walking briskly to the other side of the road and lighting up a cigarette.

"It's not healthy for an eleven-year-old to smoke." Severus commented quietly as the boy practically threw himself down on the curb, inhaling desperately and wiping heavily at his eyes with his sleeve.

"No. It is not."

They remained silent until James had finished his cigarette and disappeared from view.

"Fuck." Severus suddenly swore, standing abruptly and motioning for Lucius to do the same. "We need to head back to The Leaky Cauldron."

"Why?" Lucius asked suspiciously, struggling to keep pace with Severus.

"Because—I just realized. I'll need to brew the counter-potion to the dampener."

* * *

Narcissa blinked when a strange woman came stumbling out of the floo—followed by a strange man she had never seen. They didn't notice her, instead bickering between themselves.

"How could you forget the counter to the magic dampener!? I would have never deigned to go running around like a squib if I knew you didn't have the counter on hand!"

"It is a simple brew, Lucius! It will only take me an hour to make!"

Narcissa covered her mouth with her hand, giggling slightly. "Should I assume this little stunt has something to do with your Little Street Urchin?" Both 'men' swung around to look at her, and she was pleased to note that they both flushed heavily. "Did it work?"

"It did." Severus said stoically, ducking his head when Narcissa giggled again. "We successfully followed the boy."

"And did you find out his name?"

Both 'men' were silent at that, pointedly looking away from her.

"What did you find out?"

Narcissa patiently listened to the tale, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief at the end of it. "You know, there is a simpler way to find out who he is without prying into his private life like that."

Severus leveled her with a glare, which wasn't quite as effective as usual without his dark eyes and brooding forehead.

"Why don't you simply get a copy of the enrollment list and eliminate everyone he can't be? It would be far more efficient than blindly trying to figure out who he is in this open-ended manner."

Severus blinked at her, exchanging a look with Lucius before quietly responding. "That is—a somewhat decent suggestion."

"Of course, you can always continue with this ridiculous dress-up charade, if it so pleases you." Narcissa rolled her eyes and left the room.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter 8

"What do you mean, you've run out of names?" Lucius asked incredulously, lingering over the potion Severus was working on. "How is that possible?"

"I mean, I've excluded every possible name on that list—all of them are accounted for!" Severus snapped.

Lucius massaged his temples, glowering at the dark-haired man. "You mean to tell me we've exhausted the list completely, and our Little Street Urchin isn't on it at all? How is that possible!?"

"It isn't—which means we've missed something." Severus sighed, throwing his knife down and running a hand through his hair. He whipped out his wand and vanished the potion he was working on.

Lucius paced a few times around the small lab, tapping his finger on his chin. "What if—what if James is actually a girl?" He held up a hand before Severus could snap at him. "Just hear me out! Think about it—he's already proved himself to be a street-smart kid, right? Well, on the streets wouldn't it be smart of a street-smart little _girl_ to pretend to be a street-smart little boy? It would be safer, because the streets are more dangerous for girls than boys."

Severus paused at that. "You make a very valid point—but how do you propose we go about finding out if he is in fact a 'she?'"

Lucius frowned. "How else? You see if he's got a penis."

Severus' expression didn't change—he just continued staring at Lucius until the blonde flushed. "Oh. Yes. Well, that might be a problem."

"Might? I don't know about you, but I can't very well walk up to one of my students and sneak in a grope to see what equipment he has."

"I wasn't thinking of that!"

"Apparently." Severus drawled, rolling his eyes. "We are running out of time—term starts in a week. At this point, we might as well wait for the sorting to discover his identity."

"_Her _identity. Unless the opportunity presents itself before then." Lucius was quick to amend.

* * *

James was suspicious by nature—which was why he was so suspicious that Dan, Lou and Thomas were at the point that whatever conversation they were having died the moment he entered the room. None of them were forthcoming about it, though, and James couldn't really bother himself to care all that much.

So long as Lou kept his promise to look after Carl when he was gone, that was all that mattered to James.

He was even more suspicious of Batman and Barbie, however. He hadn't seen hide or hair of them in over three weeks, and it was worrisome.

It was August 28, and it was down to the wire. James had actually broken down and cleaned the room him and Thomas shared, carefully packing his clothes. Dan thought it was ironic, that the only time they could get James to clean was when he was about to leave.

James had just snorted, and pointed out that Thomas and Lou weren't exactly quick to pick up a broom, either.

Dan hadn't said anything to that, simply leaving the room. James grumbled, continuing to sort through the endless piles of dirty laundry and hauling them down to the laundry room on their floor.

James had everything carefully organized in his bags, having bought another expanded bag from Jiggers' Knacks. The second bag was a bit smaller on the inside, but fit his clothes perfectly. He could then stash that bag inside the other and still only had to carry the one leather satchel. His ticket for the train was secure in one of the smaller pockets on the bag, and he had written out a small list of things he still needed to buy before going off to the unknown.

Lou had taken up the mantle, making sure James had enough money for everything he needed—taking him to the optometrist to get him an extra pair of glasses and a couple new pairs of contact lenses to last the year. James also stocked up on the saline cleaning solution, unsure whether or not he'd be able to find more of it once he was at school.

Dan and Thomas both grumbled that he was 'such a girl' when he'd packed four bottles of his favorite shampoo—cranberry and orange scented—and two tubes of his favorite toothpaste.

No one was home at the moment, and James was sitting on the floor in the middle of his room feeling rather lonely. It was rather late—after 9:00. He was packed and ready to go at a moment's notice, though he knew logically that the train wasn't leaving for another three days. His stomach was bubbling with nerves, and he sighed heavily. "You can do this—you've faced worse than a new school!"

Granted, it had been a few years since he'd been in school—since he'd left the Dursleys, actually. The only reason he was so good at reading was that Carl and Lou had constantly read to him from their favorite magazines—and he'd taken up reading them for himself. When Carl had first ended up in the institution, he had spent months at the library trying to read through all the medical journals and find _something_ that would mean the doctors were wrong when they said Carl would 'never get better.'

James pushed himself off the floor, grabbing his bag and feeling his pocket for the money Lou had given him that morning. Lou had specifically told him that there wouldn't be any more coming until the winter holidays. He wasn't sure if he was going to need money while he was actually at school, but figured it would be a good idea to have some just in case.

With another glance around the now spotless room, James trudged out of the flat and headed for the nearest subway station.

* * *

Lucius was irritated beyond belief—he'd told Draco time and again to make sure he had _everything_ he needed for the upcoming school term at least two weeks ahead of time. Instead, his son had frantically come rushing up to him after dinner that evening, nearly working himself to hysterics as he told his father that he had forgotten to buy new undergarments—and he couldn't possibly go off to his first year of Hogwarts with only the 'rags' he had now.

While Lucius was inclined to agree that Malfoys wore nothing but the best, he hardly thought that pants were a high priority. Especially not so late in the evening, when only Twilfit and Tattings would still be open.

He'd acquiesced to Draco's whining, and they had floo'd to The Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't as if him or Narcissa had the time in the next two days to take Draco shopping again.

Gringotts was very nearly deserted at this time of night, only a handful of goblins working the counters. Lucius easily accessed one of his easy spending accounts—one that didn't require a visit to the vault to withdraw money. Draco was shifting anxiously by his side, sneering occasionally at the goblins watching them while they waited to receive their withdrawal.

"Father! It's that boy—the Street Urchin." Draco suddenly hissed, pulling on Lucius' sleeve. Lucius raised an eyebrow, following Draco's line of sight.

"Indeed, it is." Lucius watched 'James' walk in the door and head immediately to the exchange counter. There wasn't a goblin on duty there, but it didn't take long for one of the others to approach the boy.

"Mr. Malfoy. Your withdrawal." Lucius turned to the goblin, sweeping the Galleons into a silk, drawstring bag and pocketing it before turning to leave. He hesitated, his eyes trailing to where James was still waiting for the Goblin to finish counting out his coins.

"Draco. I need you to do something for me." Lucius leaned closer to his son, whispering quietly. "I need you to go over there and find out if that boy is actually a boy."

Draco's eyes widened. "How do you want me to do that?"

"I want you to feel for his penis."

"What!? Have you gone mad!?" Several of the Goblins turned to stare at the pair, and James glanced over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed when he noticed Lucius and Draco staring at him.

"You will do as you're told, Draco."

"No! You have gone mad! I'm not going to do that!" Draco crossed his arms stubbornly. "If you want to know so bad, you do it!"

Lucius matched Draco's glare with one of his own, even as James slowly made his way across the floor.

"Something the matter, Barbie?" The boy chuckled lightly, eyes shifting to Draco and he nodded in acknowledgement. "Barbie Spawn."

Lucius was staring at the 'boy'—if he really was a boy. Now that Lucius was focusing on the issue, he couldn't really be sure. The boy was pretty—but a lot of boys were at that age. His large green eyes were surrounded by thick, dark lashes that fluttered prettily—and he was definitely petite enough…

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Draco was sneering at James. "Obviously you're something interesting to look at—like a frog that's getting dissected."

James just arched an eyebrow, eyes not leaving Lucius. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Lucius made up his mind in a split second. "I'm going to do something—you're probably not going to take it the right way. But I promise, I don't mean it the way you're going to take it."

"What are you—"

Before the boy could finish his sentence, Lucius deftly stepped up to him and grabbed his arm firmly, reaching out and giving his crotch a firm squeeze. There was definitely a penis there.

James froze up, eyes going wide even as Draco started yelling. "Father!? Are you bloody insane!? I'm really sorry about that! I don't know what's gotten into him!"

James ignored the younger blond, green eyes narrowed on the older blonde who suddenly knew what was coming but still didn't have enough time to react before the fist collided painfully with his groin.

"Fucking pervert!"

James wrenched out of his grasp, whipping out his wand in a flash and aiming it at Lucius. "Ureniscabium!"

Lucius groaned, head foggy from the pain as his skin started burning and itching.

"My father is not a pervert! He just wanted to know if you had a penis!"

"If I have a penis!? Why wouldn't I have a penis!?"

"He thought you might be a girl, okay?" Draco grabbed Lucius' arm. "Father? Are you alright? Your skin is all pink and blotchy."

"No, I am _not_ fine! He just cursed me, you foolish boy!" Lucius still couldn't move because of the pain in his groin. He gasped brokenly, sinking to his knees.

"You deserved that." James said coldly, flicking his hair over his shoulder and stomping to the door. Lucius watched him go, groaning again as the burning itch increased in intensity—the goblins were all laughing at him.

"Draco—I do not think we're going to finish your shopping tonight. Help me up."

Draco did as he was told, helping Lucius limp out of the bank and back to The Leaky Cauldron. They floo'd back to the manor, and Lucius collapsed in a chair.

"Dobby!"

"Yes, Master?" Dobby appeared with a pop.

"Ice." Lucius croaked out, turning to Draco who was standing there nervously, his eyes wide. "Floo Severus—see if he has anything that works against 'Ureniscabium.' Quickly!"

Draco started, grabbing a handful of floo powder off the mantle and throwing it in the roaring fire. He disappeared through the flames just as Dobby reappeared with ice.

"Good." Lucius took the ice, pressing it to his aching crotch as Narcissa came into the drawing room.

"What happened?"

"Urg." Was Lucius' only reply.

"What did you do to that poor boy now?"

The floo flared green again and Draco came stumbling out, quickly followed by Severus.

"What did you do?" Severus asked coldly, pulling out his wand and a second later the burning itch ceased. Lucius breathed somewhat easier, though his cock still felt like it was about to fall off.

"He's definitely a boy." Lucius muttered.

Severus just stared at him.

"Wait!?" Narcissa was suddenly at Lucius' side. "How do you know!? You didn't—Lucius Malfoy! Tell me you did not just grope an eleven-year-old boy!?"

"He did!" Draco was standing with his arms crossed. "He tried to get me to do it for him—but I said no."

Lucius cowered under the combined glares that Severus, Narcissa and Draco shot him.

"You deserved it then?" Severus straightened up, fingering his wand thoughtfully.

"I found out, didn't I?" Lucius pointed out weakly, groaning as he pressed the ice a little too hard into himself. "He's definitely a boy, Severus."

"That is absolutely no help, Lucius! That only confirms that we actually have to wait for the sorting to find out who he is—so this little stunt of yours was absolutely unnecessary! Not to mention distasteful!"

"Draco darling, why don't you go to bed? Your father and I need to have a serious talk."

Draco looked like he wanted to argue, but a stern look from his mother had him slipping out of the room quickly. Severus shook his head, heading for the floo.

"Severus? Thank you for coming to the aide of my idiot husband."

Severus snorted, before disappearing into green flames.

Lucius slowly turned his gaze to his wife, swallowing thickly when she approached. "I highly doubt Draco will ever have a sibling, at this rate."

"Do not expect sympathy from me—not for this!" Narcissa hissed. "That was unacceptable behavior! You deserve this!" She turned and swept from the room, but not before shooting a stinging hex at him—it hit the inside of his thigh, causing him to yelp loudly. "You deserved that as well!"

Lucius slumped in his chair, shifting the ice and grimacing at the large wet spot that appeared on his robes where the ice was melting. Grumbling, he pulled out his wand and summoned a bottle of fire-whiskey, pulling the lid off and taking a large gulp. "Should have thought that one through."

* * *

James stomped his way from Diagon Alley to Knockturne, feeling rather reckless. How _dare_ that stupid blonde bimbo!

Before he could make it to the safety of Gren's however, he caught sight of a familiar figure stepping out of the shadows and whipped out his wand.

"Go on then! Make a grab at me! I've already handed you your arse twice. Third time's a charm, right?"

Greyback halted, drawing his own wand much more slowly—his eyes darted up and down the street, coming to rest on a man that came stumbling out of a shop a little ways down. James recognized the shape of the turban and rolled his eyes.

"What are you waiting for then? Don't want any witnesses?"

Still, Greyback didn't respond. His yellow eyes just turned to stare at James.

"You're a coward—isn't that right? You only pick on people you think you can easily get the upper hand on. But someone that actually stands a chance and you don't want to fight?" Deep inside, James knew he was being incredibly stupid by goading this man—he'd listened to some of the gossip and knew that Greyback was a werewolf, which made him all the more dangerous. But part of him didn't care. He was in a right foul mood.

"I-is there a p-problem here?" Quirrell was eyeing Greyback nervously, eyes flicking to James. He jumped a bit when Greyback snarled at him.

"No problem." James shrugged, wand still pointed at the unmoving werewolf. "Just asking our friend here if he has the balls to attack me. He doesn't."

Greyback snarled, taking a step towards James and leaping aside when James cast a stunning spell at him.

Quirrell nervously backed away. "N-now… You are t-taking a b-big chance, young m-man."

"Not really." James shrugged, slowly circling a bit around Greyback. "Ureniscabium!"

The man dodged the spell again, backing away. Quirrell's own eyes widened as the man got closer to him, and he pressed himself against the wall.

"Watch yourself, kid." Greyback spat. "I could do things to you that would make you scream."

"You've already tried that." James huffed, blowing his fringe out of his face. "I think you're all talk."

Greyback didn't respond again, growling at Quirrell before backing further down the street. When James didn't fire another spell at him, he turned and walked away.

Nearly as soon as Greyback was out of sight, Gren burst out of her shop. "What were you thinking!? Trying something like that!"

James winced when the hag slapped him hard upside the head.

"He could have torn you to pieces!"

"But he didn't!" James pointed out, yelping when Gren grabbed his ear and dragged him into her shop. Quirrell watched the scene with wide eyes, before quickly walking away. "Ow!"

"Ow is right! And it's nothing compared to what Greyback will do to you if he ever manages to get his hands on you!" Gren pulled him through the shop and into the back room. She pushed him down in a chair. "Sit! Stay!"

"I'm not a fucking dog!" James snapped, but didn't move from his spot when Gren disappeared into another room. He was in a small dining room. A second later, the hag appeared with a tea set.

"You need to get something straight." Gren growled, setting the tea on the table with a little too much force. Some of the hot liquid sloshed onto the wood, but the woman paid no attention to that. "You bested Greyback because he underestimated you. The first time, he was expecting you to put up no fight at all and was taken by surprise. The second time he thought he had you because you couldn't physically fight back and he didn't expect you to be able to fight back magically. If it had just been you and him out there tonight, he would have smeared you over the cobblestones!"

James crossed his arms, looking down at the table top and jumping slightly when a cup of tea was slammed down in front of him.

"Well? What do you have to say to that?"

"I don't know! Okay? I was angry—just got groped up by Lucius fucking Malfoy! Then I saw Greyback coming at me from the shadows and I just snapped!"

Gren sighed and slumped in the only other chair. "It was a foolish thing to do!"

"I know that—I just… it was… I know. I know I shouldn't have. But I've been so angry, I just… I wanted a fight, I guess." James ducked his head, taking a sip of his tea and wincing at the bitter taste.

"You wanted a fight?" Gren shook her head. "You don't go picking fights with Fenrir Greyback! Even grown wizards don't do that!"

"I'm sorry." James fidgeted nervously. "What do I do now?"

"Do? It's a good thing you're going to Hogwarts. Greyback can't get you there, and it won't be safe for you to step foot in Knockturne for a good long while. Diagon either, after dark. And don't even think about leaving out of here tonight—he'd follow you and wait until you were alone—then, he'd make good on that promise to make you scream. Severus assures me that you know exactly what that man will do to you if he gets the chance?"

James nodded. "So, you want me to stay here tonight?"

"That, or I can get ahold of Severus and he can floo you out of here. But from what I understand, you don't want him to know where you live?"

James hurriedly shook his head.

"Very well—I'll get you a blanket. Come with me." Gren stood up, leaving the tea on the table. James followed slowly as she led him to a small sitting room. There was a fire in the small fire-place, and filled bookshelves lined every inch of the walls.

"That chair is a bit old and worn, but it's comfortable enough." Gren motioned to the armchair, taking out her wand and levitating a matching footstool so it was pressed right up against the chair. Another flick of her wand had a pillow and a blanket zooming to her hand. She tossed them at the chair as well.

"I'm going back to the shop. You can either go to bed or join me."

James glanced at the makeshift bed-chair—he didn't feel tired at all. Instead, he followed Gren back through her little apartment and into the shop.

"Are you always open this late?" James asked as Gren moved behind the counter.

"Usually. Most of the shops in Knockturne are open late—we cater to certain customers that way. That also draws in some customers that wouldn't otherwise step foot in our shops—no shops in Diagon are open this late."

James nodded, heading towards the side wall where the Defense texts were and gazing at the different titles.

"None of those are going to help you with your Greyback problem, dear." Gren interjected. "We'll wait until morning—I'll lock up tight tonight. Then, I'll have Severus escort you out through The Leaky Cauldron and make sure you're not being followed."

"I can tell if someone magical is following me." James explained. "Even if they're invisible."

"All the same. Greyback would be less likely to even try if Severus was with you. That man is probably the only person I know that Greyback would honestly fear to cross."

"Hmm." James shrugged. "If you insist."

"I do. I'm of half a mind to turn you over my knee and beat your sorry arse red! And if you ever do something so stupid again, you can bet your arse I will! Do you understand!?"

James flinched horribly, ducking his head and staring at the hag through his bangs.

"I asked you a question—and don't think for a minute that you can't be punished just because some fools abused the hell out of you! Some lessons are only learned through a proper spanking!"

"I understand, ma'am." James said quietly, ducking his head as the blood rushed to his face.

"Good. And mark my words, I will follow through with that if I find out you've gone all half-cocked like you did tonight!"

"I believe you." James muttered quietly, turning back to the bookshelf in front of him.

"Good." Gren huffed loudly. "Darn you! Do you realize you are the first little cretin to worm your way into this old heart—you scared me half to death!"

James smiled, but shifted nervously. "I really didn't mean to worry you. I'm not—I'm not used to that… no one's ever really worried about me getting into trouble—they usually figure I can get myself back out and leave it at that."

Gren was silent for a long time. "Well, do try to give this old heart a break then. I can't handle many more scares like that in my old age."

"I'll try my best." James grinned again.


	10. Chapter Nine

Warning: This chapter contains corporal punishment

Chapter 9

Severus grumbled when an owl descended on him at the head-table. He had moved back to his quarters at Hogwarts the night before, and wasn't expecting post. He hadn't even updated his subscription to the Daily Prophet yet.

Severus fed the owl a bit of bacon, unrolling the parchment and arching an eyebrow when the missive turned out to be written with a Muggle pen—he didn't know anyone who used Muggle pens on parchment.

_Severus_

_James got in a lot of trouble with Greyback last night. I don't want to send him off alone. Do you think you could come walk him out of Knockturne and Diagon and make sure he doesn't get followed?_

_Gren_

_PS. I'm not letting the boy step foot out of my shop unless you're with him, so you might as well just come_.

Severus swore to himself, pushing to his feet.

"Something wrong, Severus?"

"Nothing wrong, Headmaster. I have a friend that requires my assistance." Severus nodded to the old man, ignoring the twinkle that appeared when Severus used the word 'friend.'

"A friend?" Minerva asked. "You have a friend?"

"Do try not to sound so surprised!" Severus snapped.

"I wasn't surprised, Severus. Of course you have friends. You just tend to avoid admitting it." Minerva chuckled.

Severus didn't reply, instead sweeping out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeons. He muttered the password to his office, slipping in the door and rereading the letter.

James got into more trouble with Greyback? Last night? It must have been after Lucius pulled that stupid stunt.

Severus grimaced, going to the fireplace and snatching a handful of floo powder off the mantle. "Diagon Alley!" He stepped unflinchingly into the green flames and waited impatiently while he spun through grate after grate.

Finally, he stepped smoothly into The Leaky Cauldron, carelessly brushing soot from his robes as he strode out back. Tom called after him, reaching him just before he tapped the right brick to open the archway.

"James came through pretty late last night—didn't come back out. I'm a bit worried about the lad. I've heard rumors that he's crossed Greyback a few times and Professor Quirrell came through last night muttering about boys mouthing off to werewolves…"

"I've been assured he's fine. I have come to escort him, however because apparently he did find trouble with Greyback last night. I have a friend looking after him."

Tom paled. "You're sure he's alright? Greyback is downright nasty…"

"James can hold his own." Severus said simply. "But if you don't believe me, I'll be bringing him through shortly. You can see for yourself that he's unharmed."

Tom nodded, wringing his hands before smiling slightly. "I'd appreciate that. I'm rather fond of the boy."

Severus nodded, tapping his wand against the brick in the wall and slipping through the archway as soon as it was large enough. He ignored everyone, marching pointedly down the street and slipping through Knockturne until he reached Gren's Book Nook.

Gren was leaning on the counter, and James was nowhere in sight.

"You're here." Gren nodded, going to the door and clicking the lock before nodding towards the back. "I didn't expect you so early. He's still asleep."

Severus followed the woman to the small apartment in the back of the shop—James was curled up in an armchair, sleeping soundly.

"You want me to wake him?"

"Let him sleep for now." Severus muttered quietly. "Tell me what happened."

Gren motioned him back to the dining room, disappearing for a second and returning with a tea set.

"Last night, I see him come walking up the street—Greyback was out as usual. The boy whips out his wand the second he sees Greyback—a smart thing to do no doubt. But then he starts in on taunting the man, practically daring him to make a go, challenging him, calling him a coward—Quirrell came along right about then, which is the only reason Greyback didn't massacre the boy." Gren shook her head, leaning back in her chair and taking a sip of her tea. "He wouldn't let up, spouted that Greyback didn't have the balls—when Greyback left I snatched him by the ear and dragged him back here. Gave him a piece of my mind."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "He challenged Greyback?"

"Yeah. Used some rather creative insults, too."

"That little fool!" Severus hissed.

"I was so tempted to turn him over my knee, Severus."

"You should have!"

"I couldn't—not out of the blue like that. I won't raise a hand to the boy—unless he knowingly does something to deserve it."

Severus huffed. "So, what? You think we ought to let it slide?"

"No. There was none of that, either. I think the threat of a spanking scared him more than the real thing. I don't think he's ever gotten a true one before—for the proper reasons, mind you." Gren sighed. "He has to understand that punishments like that are pointed, and only come from someone that actually cares when he does something really bad. He understands that he scared the hell out of me, but he needs time to process that before he could possibly relate the fact that I do care to the fact that a punishment isn't just handed out in hate."

Severus ran a hand through his hair, grumbling darkly. "He's been abused then? It didn't seem likely, what with his attitude."

"He has." Gren started slowly. "But I think it ended some time ago—and whoever's cared for him since then has left him to his own devices. He's got a skewed perspective because of that."

Severus nodded. "So. Who was it that turned you over their knee? Out of love, of course."

Gren was not at all embarrassed. "My aunt. She was a stern woman. She took me away from my parents when she found out how they were treating me. Of course, I followed the rules obsessively at first. But when the beatings didn't continue, I got rebellious. She gave me plenty of warning, telling me that there would be consequences, and eventually I did push that far. Never let it be said that someone is too old for a sound spanking—I was sixteen and stole one of our neighbors horses. Rode it near to death trying to get across the country. Boy, I couldn't sit for a week when she was done with me. I shaped up right quick, though."

Severus nodded solemnly. "I think things would have turned out different with me if I had someone like that."

"Are you two really exchanging heart-felt spanking stories?" James sleepily walked into the kitchen, blearily glancing between Gren and Severus. "Morning."

"I was just telling Severus that I've established some rules, and if you don't follow them you fully know the consequences." Gren growled. "Don't you?"

James ducked his head. "Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Go clean yourself up. Severus is taking time out of his day to make sure your safe, so don't dawdle."

"Right. Sorry." James disappeared again.

"I'm impressed." Severus admitted.

"Of course you are. I might not know anything about being a parent, but I sure as hell know about being a child in James' shoes."

Severus nodded, standing and draining his tea. "I'll be waiting in the shop, if you want to say goodbye. I'm guessing you've already warned him off coming back for now, and he'll be at school for a long time."

Gren nodded, and Severus made his way back to the shop.

James emerged from the bathroom slowly, snatching his bag up from beside the chair he'd slept in. His neck was stiff, but it was loosening up pretty quick.

Gren was alone in the kitchen, and James shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"Take care of yourself. And do _try_ to stay out of trouble, won't you?"

"I will." James smiled sheepishly. "I'll miss you while I'm gone."

Gren stood, mussing his hair. "I don't suppose you'll tell me your real name so I can send you a letter?"

James bit his lip, eyes flickering to the door. "You won't tell anyone?"

"Not a soul."

James shifted nervously, glancing down at his feet. "I-I'm Harry Potter."

Silence. James swallowed harshly, slowly looking up at the old hag. She was frozen in place, one hand clenched over her heart. "Gren?"

"My dear boy… Do you realize how dangerous it would have been if anyone here had figured out who you are?"

James nodded quickly. "I figured that out after a while—didn't know who I was to the wizarding world until after I started reading some."

"And you continued to come back anyways?"

"I like it here!"

"Damnit, James! That's not the point!" James yelped when the old hag moved with a quickness that belied her age and snatched his ear. He followed obediently as she dragged him back to the sitting room and in an instant she was seated with him sprawled across her lap.

"What are you doing!? Stop!" James tried to wiggle out of her grasp, yelling again when his pants were yanked to his knees.

SMACK!

"You will not keep taking foolish risks with your safety!"

SMACK!

"You will not knowingly put yourself in danger!"

SMACK!

"You will not go looking for trouble just because you're angry!"

SMACK!

"And you _will not_ come back here once you leave!"

James struggled uselessly against the iron grip Gren had on him, the tears building up in his eyes with every swat until the tears were streaming down his face. Gren didn't ease up until he was sobbing.

James slumped on the floor, bawling uncontrollably as Gren stroked his hair. It took a long while for him to calm down.

"I don't want to stop coming to see you, Gren!" James finally caught his breath enough to talk.

"I'm not worth it." Gren stated pointedly. "You shouldn't have been down here in the first place—I told you the first time I met you that it wasn't safe. Now, with this Greyback business—and you being Harry Potter! By Merlin boy, why not just paint a target on your forehead?"

James sniffed, awkwardly fumbling to pull his pants back up. "I didn't ask for that! I don't want to be the fucking Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Yet you are." Gren sighed. "I'll tell you what—we'll see how this next year goes. I _might_ let you come visit me here—mind you I said _might_… I've been thinking about getting the shop hooked up to the floo network. If I do, I don't see why you couldn't pop in for a visit every now and again. But if I ever see you come walking down that street like you haven't a care in the world, you'll swear that today's punishment did little more than tickle. Do you understand?"

James nodded, blinking quickly over his tears. "What if I'm not alone? What if I get someone to come with me?"

Gren was silent for a while. "That someone better be an adult, fully qualified witch or wizard."

"Okay." James stood shakily, wiping his face with his sleeve. He fidgeted uncertainly under Gren's gaze. "I'm really sorry. I wasn't trying to risk my life."

"Not your life, maybe. But you knew full well that it was dangerous and decided to do it anyways." Gren finally stood, ruffling James' hair and pushing his bangs back to glance at his scar. "At some point, you have to explain to me how the Boy-Who-Lived ended up lost in the Muggle world."

James chuckled weakly, picking up his bag. "I'll let you know just as soon as I do."

Gren shook her head, leading him back to the shop. "Get going then. Severus is waiting on you."

"Bye Gren. I'll write you."

"So will I."

* * *

Severus was leaning against the counter when James appeared through the door. It had been nearly twenty minutes since he'd stepped out.

"Took you long enough. Are you ready?"

James nodded, not quite meeting his eyes and clutching tightly to his bag. Severus arched an eyebrow, noting the tear-tracks and mussed hair, but didn't comment.

The boy followed him wordlessly out of the shop, staying close without having to be told. He didn't argue when they quickly passed through Diagon Alley.

"Is there anything you need before we leave? You will not be coming back here before school starts."

"No. I've got everything I need for school." James muttered.

Severus nodded, continuing through to The Leaky Cauldron. He caught Tom's eye as they passed through, and the barkeep beamed widely. Severus didn't stop to chat though, just herded James through the pub and out onto the street. He kept a close eye on their surroundings.

"I will stay with you at least until we're on the subway—I'll be certain by then whether you're being followed."

James' head snapped up but Severus continued before he could argue. "You don't have to take me all the way to your home. You have my word I will not follow you. But I do not want you backtracking out of some misguided attempt to throw me off your trail. I will not get off at the same station as you if you would prefer, but I will see you safely on the train."

James hesitated, green eyes narrowed in suspicion. Severus met the gaze unflinchingly, and finally the boy sighed. "Alright. I guess."

Severus nodded, and they were both silent as they walked to the subway station on Tottenham Court Road. James got them both through the turnstile without tickets—a trick that Severus secretly wanted to learn—and they waited calmly at the platform for the right train to come through.

"I don't suppose you'll give in and tell me your name?" Severus broke the silence.

"What? And ruin the surprise? Are you crazy?" James grinned cheekily. "You'll find out on September 1, so I don't see how two days makes a difference."

"And how do you think I'll find out?"

"You're a Professor, I'm going to Hogwarts, ergo…." James snorted

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And how long have you known I'm a Professor?"

"Since after that time you and Barbie followed me—Tom mentioned that you were a professor."

"I see. And you continued your rude, unruly behavior regardless?"

"You were _stalking_ me. Isn't that rude, unprofessional behavior?"

Severus didn't have anything to say to that, so remained silent.

"So. Are you going to tell me why you were following me?"

"Are you going to tell me your name?"

James snapped his mouth closed, glaring at the older man. Their train pulled into the station, and Severus ushered the boy on board.

"Why are you so adamant about hiding your identity?" Severus asked casually, glancing sidelong at the boy where he was holding tightly to one of the handles by the door.

"Why are you so determined to know it?" James countered, arching an eyebrow when Severus did. "What's so special about me?"

"How about the fact that you didn't know about the wizarding world, but found it anyways? Or the fact that you should have had a guide when you got your letter, but somehow you slipped through the cracks and didn't get one? How about the fact that I've gone through every possible name on the enrollment list and still haven't been able to place you?" Severus growled. "Take your pick."

James stared at him evenly. "And how could you possibly know that I had to find the wizarding world on my own?"

"I overheard you talking with your Muggle friend during your first trip to Diagon Alley."

"Oh." James frowned, glancing down at the floor between his feet. "You know, I don't go by my real name. Haven't for years. And I didn't know anything about the wizarding world—when you find out who I am, you'll understand why I kept it to myself."

Severus didn't have any time to respond before the boy was moving closer to the door. "This is my stop. Remember, you promised you wouldn't follow me. I'll see you at school, Professor."

And with that, the boy was gone—slipping easily through the crowd. Severus kept his word, and stayed on the train as the doors slid closed. He caught one last sight of the boy before the station slipped out of sight.

He'd understand when he found out who the boy was? What did that even mean?

Severus sighed heavily, waiting anxiously for the next stop so he could hopefully say goodbye to the subway system for good.

No one was home when James got back to the flat, and he sat down heavily at the table before jumping back up with a yelp. He bum burned something awful.

Still, he wasn't actually mad at Gren—he couldn't be. She did it because she cared…

Something that Dan and Lou never did—not really.

It wasn't like he _wanted_ them to, either. He just had never realized that they didn't seem to worry about him like they should. Like Carl had.

He hadn't come home last night—would they be angry?

James didn't think they would be. He'd stayed out all night before, and they hadn't even asked where he'd been. Before he'd taken that to mean that they trusted him. Now he wasn't so sure.

"This is stupid! Of course they care about me!" James huffed, sitting back down slowly. He winced, but managed to get himself arranged somewhat comfortably. "They just aren't the fuzzy, cuddly type."

That wasn't exactly true, either. Lou had a definite soft-spot—and wasn't it Lou that had insisted James take a break from 'business' after the Dursley episode?

James shook his head. He was being stupid. He'd known from that get-go that Lou and Dan weren't really the parental types—even Carl had been quick to mention that he wasn't a 'parent.' It just wasn't in their nature to be nurturing—that didn't mean they didn't care.

James was still brooding when Thomas got home—the older boy saw him sitting in the kitchen and came to sit down at the table.

"Where were you last night?"

James shrugged. "Got in some trouble in Knockturne last night—the lady that ran the bookstore wouldn't let me leave by myself."

Thomas nodded. "We thought you might have been gone for good—you're leaving the day after tomorrow, right?"

"Why would I just leave like that without saying anything?" James snapped, pushing himself away from the table.

"I don't know." Thomas shrugged. "You're gone all the time now. Thought you might have been busy with all this magic stuff."

James huffed. "Well I wouldn't do that—I'd say goodbye at least before disappearing for months."

"Whatever! No need to bite my fucking head off!" Thomas growled, pushing himself away from the table as well. He stomped out of the flat.

"You don't have to be such a dick!" James screamed after him, flinching when the door slammed closed. He blinked hard when his eyes started watering. "I'm not a fucking baby! I'm not going to cry!" He snatched his bag off the floor and ran to the bedroom, slamming the door closed and climbing into the top bunk. He punched his pillow before rolling over so his back was to the door and squeezed his eyes shut as the tears kept coming.

"This is fucking stupid!"

James laid there for a long time, crying quietly and listening for any sounds from within the apartment. No one came in all day, and eventually James' rumbling stomach got the best of him. He climbed down from his bunk, going to use the bathroom and wash his face. He took out his contacts—his eyes were aching from sleeping in them and all the crying. They needed a break. Instead, he found his new glasses in his bag and put them on.

There wasn't a lot of food in the kitchen, and he swore when he realized he didn't have any Muggle money either. He'd traded it all for wizarding money.

"Fucking great!" James slammed the refrigerator door a few times, scouring the cupboards. Finally, he settled on a can of soup and fished a pan out of the sink. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to work the stove, and he grimaced at the thick goop that came out of the can with a 'slurp.'

"This is kind of disgusting."

He left the pan on the burner, searching through the cabinets until he found the bread. He popped a couple slices in the toaster and flicked the switch down, grimacing when he went to stir the soup and he realized he'd already burned the bottom—the top was still cold.

"I fucking hate cooking!" He threw the pan in the sink, the soup splashing everywhere. He turned the burner off and snatched up his toast, pulling the jam out of the fridge. A few minutes later he was less hungry and sitting on the couch in the living room, watching the news on the telly.

It was nearly midnight before Dan and Lou got home, and James was getting ready for bed. He was changed into his pajamas, and had already brushed his teeth. When he heard them come in, he silently padded down the hall, finding them in the kitchen. "Hey."

"James? Didn't think you'd be back." Dan muttered, eyeing the mess in the sink.

"Why wouldn't I be back!?" James growled. "You think I'd just take off like that?"

"I don't really know." Dan shrugged, heading down the hallway and disappearing into the room he shared with Lou.

"Lou?" James asked, glancing at the larger man.

"I knew you'd be back." Lou grinned. "You wouldn't take off without saying goodbye!"

James smiled at that, carefully sitting himself down at the table. "Of course I wouldn't."

"Right. So what have you been up to? Anything exciting happen? I haven't seen you in a few days."

James grinned. "Well, you know. Battling werewolves. Nothing much."

"Werewolves? That's a good one."

"They're real, you know." James shook his head. "I really did get into some trouble with one—it wasn't the full moon, but still. His name is Fenrir Greyback and apparently he's really dangerous. I spent the night with a hag that owns a book shop."

Lou blinked at him. "Really now? Sounds like fun."

James wasn't quite sure what to do with that, and wondered whether he shouldn't make Lou understand just how dangerous Greyback was. "He attacked me, you know. A few weeks back. I managed to knock him out with a spell, but it was a close one. I guess I pissed him off though. Apparently the only reason I got one over on him was because he underestimated me. I'm really no match for him."

Lou just smiled softly. "Don't sell yourself short—I'm sure you can give him a run for his money."

"No, actually. I can't. Not yet—I'm not to set foot in Knockturne Alley again, and I'm not to step foot in Diagon Alley again before school starts. After that, I've been warned not to go there after dark. That's why I didn't come home last night—I had a run in with Greyback and I mouthed off to him. Gren—that's the hag—she wouldn't let me leave unless someone could go with me to make sure I wasn't being followed."

"Really? Is it that bad?"

"Yeah." James shrugged.

"Be careful. I don't want you to get hurt." Lou ruffled James' hair, eyeballing the mess in the sink. "What happened there?"

"I can't even cook canned soup." James tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach when Lou chuckled and disappeared down the hallway. He sat up for a long time before going to bed. There was no sign of Thomas.

The next morning, the flat was empty by the time James got up—though there was a note from Lou and a few pounds telling him to go get something to eat. James hated himself when he broke down crying again. He pocketed the money, but didn't venture from the small apartment. Instead, he barricaded himself in his room, passing the time away with _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 4_, picking out a couple spells to practice just to spite Dan. By the time he finally heard someone rustling around the flat, he'd mastered the summoning spell.

There was a pile of things next to him on the bunk, and he was trying to learn the banishing charm.

"Relegio!" The shoe in front of him twitched, but didn't go soaring away. "Relegio!"

"What are you doing?"

James ignored Thomas, focusing his attention on the shoe in front of him. "Relegio!"

The shoe soared away, landing with a thump on the other side of the room.

"You aren't supposed to be doing that here."

"What's it to you?" James snapped, taking the next object off the pile—a dirty bowl. "Relegio!" The bowl soared across the room, landing neatly on the dresser.

"Fine—but I don't want to hear you wining when Dan tears you a new one." Thomas snapped, slamming the door shut as he left the room.

James just continued banishing the items until they were all back where they came from—mostly.

He heard Thomas still in the flat, and slowly climbed down from the bunk. The boy was lounging on the couch, the telly turned up loud. He ignored James completely, and James huffed grabbing his shoes from in front of the door. He slammed them on his feet, not even bothering to close the door as he stormed out.

"What is his fucking problem!?" James scowled. It was just starting to get dark, and his stomach was trying to gnaw its' way out through his backbone. The Chinese place was only a few blocks away, and a few minutes later he was strolling down the street with a carton of Mushu Pork and absolutely no intention of going back to the flat until morning—he only really needed to shower and grab his bag before heading off to the train. Besides, if Dan, Lou or Thomas really were going to miss him they would have stayed home today—his last day in London.

Instead, he hadn't even seen Dan or Lou, and Thomas was still being a prat.

James did his best to shrug it off, carelessly tossing his empty Chinese container on the ground when he was done with it and lighting up an after dinner cigarette. The only question was how he was going to spend the night—Knockturne was completely out of the question. So was Diagon.

And his bloody family couldn't care less.

There were only a handful people in the underground when James stalked moodily into the station. Several trains passed by before he made up his mind on where to go.

He hadn't been to the zoo since 'the Dursley' episode—he hadn't been by to see Andrèia, and he hadn't told her what was going on. A long talk with his favorite snake was way overdue.

And sneaking into the zoo was fairly easy—even getting into the locked reptile house was simple. They put the alligators up for the night, and there was a passageway from the outside to the inside that he could fit through.

There weren't even many cameras—and he knew where every single one was.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter 10

Kings Cross station was normally one of James' absolute favorite places—the way it was always crowded, the trains coming in and out and the accidents that happened—the bustle was exciting. Unless he'd spent a sleepless night camped out on the concrete floor of a reptile house, only leaving in the early hours of the morning just before the zoo workers started their rounds to get ready for the day.

No one had been at the flat when James' got there. No one had waited around to say goodbye.

Which explained entirely James' foul mood as he slowly meandered up and down between platforms nine and ten, searching for the elusive platform nine and three-quarters. He honestly hadn't expected it to be hidden. He was expecting something like with The Leaky Cauldron.

But as hard as he stared, he still couldn't see a passageway—and the magic humming in the air felt far away and like it was hovering next to him all at once. He'd been there for over a half hour, and the clock was ticking steadily towards 11:00.

"Bullocks!" James sat down with a huff, glaring back and forth at the platforms. He'd have to ask someone. Though, he knew better than to ask a Muggle about platform nine and three-quarters. Maybe a magical family would come by…

Another ten minutes of watching the crowd and he finally caught sight of a family that was so obviously magical it hurt. It was no wonder the magical world wasn't hidden well! The family of redheads seemed vaguely familiar, and James was certain he'd caught sight of them in Diagon Alley at one point.

They had an owl—which was what sealed James in approaching the large family.

"—packed with Muggles, of course. Now what's the platform number?" The speaker was a plump woman, older—seemingly the 'mother.' There were five kids swarming around her, all of which had the same shockingly red hair.

"Nine and three-quarters!" The smallest kid, a little girl answered excitedly. "Mom, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

James watched carefully, forcing himself not to blink as the oldest boy pushed his trolley towards platform nine and ten—but just as he reached the dividing barrier a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

James shook his head, slowly approaching the family and clinging rather nervously to the strap of his bag. These were people he was going to be living with for the next nine months—people who were soon going to know that he was _The_ Harry Potter. He couldn't quite swallow over the nervous, acidic taste in his mouth and instead watched in silence.

"Fred, you next."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George!" The boy was one of a set of twins—completely identical. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell _I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred." And with that, Fred darted off towards the barrier. James chuckled slightly, inching closer as George followed his twin. He decided on the spot that he wouldn't mind making friends with the twins, and if there were more people as easy going in the wizarding world it probably wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

"Excuse me." James moved forward the rest of the way, catching the attention of the plump woman.

"Hello, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

The youngest son was tall, and stringy—completely covered in freckles. James nodded to the boy.

"Yes, ma'am. I was wondering if you could tell me how to get on the platform?"

"Of course, dear. Don't you worry about it—all you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Whatever you do, don't hesitate. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."

"Right. Thanks." James clenched his bag tighter to his shoulder and turned to stare at the barrier. It looked solid—but one thing he had learned early on was that looks were deceiving. He walked smoothly towards it, ducking around a couple that was too busy chatting to pay any attention to where they were going. He took a deep breath before passing seamlessly through the wall.

A bright red steam engine was right on the other side of the barrier—a big painted sign swung overhead with the words 'The Hogwarts Express.' James smiled wryly. That was simple.

Platform nine and three-quarters was bustling with witches and wizards of all ages, owls hooted morosely from their cages and cats yowled. James stifled a wince at the assault on his ears, grimacing when he was jostled on his way to find a compartment. It took him a bit to find an empty one—only the compartments towards the end of the train weren't already full. Even with the door closed the noise from the platform wasn't blocked out.

James settled himself in the seat, propping his feet up on the small table in front of him and fishing out a book from his bag. _Practical Runes_ detailed the types of runes used in everyday objects, and how they had to be layered effectively. It sort of reminded James of Legos.

The compartment door suddenly slammed open, and _Practical Runes_ landed on the floor with a 'thump' as James leapt to his feet. The twins from earlier stared at him in shock for a second.

"Sorry about that. Thought this compartment was empty."

"It's not a problem." James shrugged, picking the book off the ground.

"_Practical Runes_? You're not a third-year. What you doing reading that?"

"It's interesting." James grinned. "There's all sorts of things you can do with runes—and because it isn't active magic, did you know there's no laws against using rune magic when you're underage?"

"I did not know that." One of the twins stepped forward, holding out his hand. "I'm Fred—this is my brother George. Don't worry about telling us apart—not even our own family can. Feel free to call me Gred and him Forge. It's simpler that way."

James grinned, shaking the first twin's hand and then the second's. "I'm James—that is, I go by James. Don't really fancy my given name, but you'll find out at the sorting as it is. Harry Potter."

The twins gaped at him, and James couldn't help the blush that crept across his face.

"Blimey! Harry Potter?"

James nodded mutely, wringing his hands when the twins continued to stare at him.

"Do you have the scar?"

"Can I see it?"

James looked between the two, not quite sure what to make of the situation. "Is everyone going to get this excited?"

"Probably." Both twins answered, grinning widely. "They'll get over it right quick, though. Just give it a few weeks. New news doesn't live long. So. Where have you been the past ten years or so? No one's so much as caught a glimpse of you since you did in You-Know-Who."

"Oh. I've been living in the Muggle world." James shifted again.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mom!" With one last look over their shoulders, the twins scuttled back off the train.

"That was bizarre." James took his seat again, staring out the window where the family of redheads was swarming around and saying their last goodbyes.

"Now, you two—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've—you've blown up a toilet or—"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's _not funny._ And Look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us." James was fairly certain the youngest redhead was going to combust from the heat of his blush as his mother swooped on him with a handkerchief to start scrubbing dirt off his nose.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

James arched an eyebrow, meeting the gaze of the speaking twin—he was almost positive it was George—the boy winked at him. "That black-haired boy with the long hair and only the little bag that was watching us outside in the station? You'll never guess who he is?"

"Who?"

"Guess?"

"For goodness sake, George! The train's about to leave!"

"Harry Potter! And I'm Fred, by the way. In case you wanted to know."

"Harry Potter? Mom, I want to go on the train and see him. Please…" The little girl started bouncing up and down on her heals.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Was that really him, Fred? No wonder the poor boy was alone. He was so polite, too."

"Yeah. I got the feeling he doesn't really like being Harry Potter—goes by James, actually." Fred grinned. "Do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. What a horrible thing to ask someone—if he remembers the face of the man that murdered his parents! Don't you dare go around harassing that boy, you hear me?"

"All right. By the way, I really am George, not Fred."

Before the mother could say anything else, both twins rushed back on the train even as the whistle sounded.

James couldn't help laughing as he watched the twins shouting out to their little sister not to cry—they'd send loads of owls and a Hogwarts toilet seat. They completely ignored their mother's protests, just blowing her exaggerated kisses and waving very dirty handkerchiefs at her.

The train slowly picked up speed, carrying the plump woman and her still sniffling daughter out of view, and James settled himself back in with his book. Who knew how long the ride was going to be, but he was fairly certain that Hogwarts wasn't just around the corner.

Before too long, the door to his compartment slid open again and the youngest son looked around sheepishly. "Um… can I sit here? Everywhere else if full?"

James didn't buy that for a second, but shrugged in response. He ignored the other boy in favor of returning to his book.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back, with a black boy with dreadlocks. "Lee's got a giant tarantula!"

Lee held up a box, cracking the lid enough for a huge hairy leg to pop out.

Ron squealed like a girl.

"Oh. Sorry. Forgot you have that thing about spiders." Fred didn't seem sorry at all, casually taking the seat next to James and casting him a look. "So. Harry—er… James. My brother and I have a question for you."

"A very important question—of a very serious nature." George continued.

Lee laughed, closing the box he was holding and taking the seat next to Ron. The younger boy scooted as far away as he could, leaving George to squeeze into the middle.

"Right. So, we were wondering if you remember what You-Know-Who looks like." Fred finished.

James slowly put his book down, glancing between the four interested gazes and swallowing thickly. "Well… actually…"

"Go on…" George urged, leaning over the table. His brown eyes were wide, and his mouth was hanging open slightly.

"He was… bald—kind of… not all the way there yet, but getting there. His hair was kind of brown, but that really plain, greyish brown. His face was round, but not as round as his belly… and he had dimples. I remember those, because he was smiling like a maniac…" James kept his voice hushed, not quite meeting anyone's eyes.

"Really?" George straightened up, frowning. Fred was mouthing the word 'dimples' and Lee's eyebrows were furrowed as if he was trying to imagine it.

Ron looked slightly green. "But that's… so normal!"

"I know." James nodded stoically. "Just goes to show, you never can tell about people. Right?"

Fred whistled. "I can't believe it. That's just—wow."

James finally snorted. "You shouldn't believe it. It's all bullocks. I'm totally having you on." Four blank faces staring back at him had him cracking up. "You should see your faces right now!? Dimples? Really?"

Fred was the first to start laughing, followed quickly by George and Lee. Ron was the last to start chortling, though James could tell it was faked as he started laughing louder and louder and kept laughing long after the rest of them had stopped.

"So really, what did he look like then?"

"How should I know? I was just a baby. All I remember is a flash of green light and high pitched laughing." James shrugged. "I honestly couldn't tell you what Voldemort looked like."

Four gasps had him rolling his eyes. "Honestly. He's dead. What do you think's going to happen if I say his name? He isn't Bloody Mary."

"Who's Bloody Mary?"

"She's from this myth—some broad who supposedly died a horrid death and was cursed so if you look into a mirror and say her name three times she'll burst out of the mirror and kill you. Bloody ridiculous if you ask me."

Fred shifted somewhat uncomfortably. "All the same, we don't say the name. It's how we were raised."

"I don't get it myself—but I was raised as a Muggle, so things are bound to be different for me." James shrugged. "Doesn't mean I'm going to just fall in line because of some bogus superstition, though. The day someone gives me a good reason for not saying 'Voldemort' is the day I'll maybe stop saying it."

Fred and George looked rather impressed, Lee looked a little nervous and Ron looked somewhat confused.

"It's rude. Isn't that a good enough excuse?"

"Not even close."

"Right. Well, we're going to get going then. See you later—we're going to go scare some girls with Lee's big spider."

"Have fun with that." James turned back to his book as the trio filed out, ignoring the door as it slammed shut. He really did have a headache from pulling an all-nighter.

"Are you really Harry Potter? Or is this one of Fred and George's jokes?"

James cocked an eyebrow at Ron. "Sure am. I go by James, though. Have for years."

"You'd rather be James Potter?"

"Not Potter—James. Just James."

"Why?"

James shrugged. "That's just who I was—didn't know a thing about the wizarding world until I got my Hogwarts letter, and I haven't been Harry Potter since I was real little. Don't know how people expect me to go back to being Harry Potter just because the name's famous. I'm just James, no matter what happened to me when I was a baby."

Ron blinked at him. "No one is going to agree with that."

"Doesn't matter what anyone else agrees with—it's my life, so my opinion is the only one that matters."

Thankfully, further conversation with 'moRon'—as James was coming to call the boy in his head—was interrupted by a clattering in the corridor as the door slid open. A smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

James shook his head, turning back to his book. He heard Ron mutter something about sandwiches as the door slid closed again and they were plunged into lovely silence.

"I'm gonna nap—wake me up when we're close." James slipped his book into his bag, using the satchel as a pillow as he laid along the seat. The redhead didn't reply, except to slide down further in his seat and stare morosely out the window.

The swaying of the train was soothing, and the noise of students running up and down the corridors soon became background noise. James sighed in content, letting his eyes flutter closed.

* * *

It wasn't much later when James snapped wide awake as the door to the compartment slammed open again. He sat straight up and glared at the intruder—a bushy haired girl looked around the compartment, completely not phased that she had just burst in uninvited. A round-faced boy peeked over her shoulder, muttering 'I'm sorry.'

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his?" Her front teeth were rather large, and her voice was annoyingly bossy.

James shook his head, laying back down and closing his eyes. "Sorry, mate."

"Don't bother, Hermione. He keeps getting away from me—don't think he likes me much."

"Don't give up, Neville. I'm sure we'll find him."

Much to James' annoyance, the bushy haired 'Hermione' slid into the compartment and took the seat next to Ron. Neville stood in the doorway uncertainly, apparently unsure what to do. James sighed heavily, but sat up and motioned to the seat next to him.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Who are you?"

James raised an eyebrow, yawning heavily. "I was sleeping—but seeing as how I can't do that anymore…"

Neville squirmed uncomfortably as Hermione simply waited on them to introduce themselves.

"Er… I'm Ron Weasley, and that's Harry Potter—but he goes by James."

"Harry Potter? Are you really? I know all about you, of course—You're in _Modern Magical History _and _ The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and—"

"…and about a dozen other books. I know…" James yawned again. "All a load of shite if you ask me. I was a bloody baby, it was some freak accident. Don't see why people make such a big deal of it."

Neville coughed slightly. "They make a big deal of it because You-Know-Who was winning the war—they don't really tell that part in the history books. He was winning, and no one could stop him. Not the ministry, not the aurors, not even Dumbledore. And you were a baby…" Neville immediately flushed when James turned to look at him.

"You know, you're the first person that's actually given me a good explanation—I read all the books, and they hailed me as some bloody hero… you're the first person to call it for what it is—a bloody mystery."

Neville's flush deepened, and Hermione was quick to interrupt. "Do you usually go out of your way to read about yourself in history books?"

"Only when I need a crash course into a hidden magical world that I didn't know existed."

Hermione was silent at that, her mouth hanging open in an 'O.'

"You didn't know about magic?" Neville asked quietly.

"I did—but only about what I could do. You know, making weird things happen all the time. Had no clue there was a whole different culture around it."

Hermione seemed to be getting irritated. "So, you're just learning about the wizarding world as well? Have you tried doing any magic yet? I've tried a few spells myself and they've gone alright with me."

"I have." James leaned his head back against the seat.

"Let's see, then."

"What exactly do you want to see?" James watched her coolly. "Should I hex you? Would that make a good demonstration? Or would you rather me hex Neville over hear so you can size me up? It's not a bloody competition."

"Well—I… I didn't…" She leapt to her feet. "Forget it! We're leaving. Come on, Neville."

Neville shot Harry a timid look before following Hermione out of the door.

"She was horrible. Hope I'm not in her house." Ron muttered.

"We'll find out in a few hours. What time you think we'll get there? When should we change into our robes?" James stood and stretched. "So much for my nap."

Ron was giggling slightly. "You really told her, though."

James ignored him and instead pulled his robes from his bag. He pulled them over his head, smoothing them out and then smoothing out his messed hair.

"What house do you think you'll be in? I'm hoping for Gryffindor—my whole family's been in Gryffindor for ages. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

"I don't really know. Isn't that why they have the sorting? And really, does it matter if your family is in a house? I thought the houses were supposed to be about personality, not about family? I mean, because what is the point of separating people like that? It kind of beats the purpose, doesn't it?"

"So, you won't be disappointed if you're in Slytherin, then? Your parents were in Gryffindor!"

"Were they?" James shrugged. "I don't remember my parents, so I don't see what that has to do with anything."

Ron huffed, crossing his arms. "It's obvious now that you were raised by Muggles. You don't understand anything."

"Or maybe you're just fucked up because of stupid superstitions and are too dense to have an open mind."

"Bugger off! You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Like you do? You have no idea what real life is like—people don't fit into nice neat boxes, and you shouldn't be trying to shove yourself in one just because you're family happens to fit into it." James shook his head, huffing to blow his hair out of his face. "I'm leaving."

"Go on, then!"

The door slid open before James had done more than snatch up his bag, and three boys walked in. James recognized the middle one at once—it was Barbie's spawn.

"Is it true?" The blonde looked James up and down. "Is the Street Urchin really the famous Harry Potter?"

"What of it?" James glanced the other boys up and down. Both of them were thick and looked mean. A tiny voice in the back of his head said 'I could take 'em.' James smirked at that, before turning his attention back to Barbie Spawn. "Think you're so important you need bodyguards, do you? Hate to break it to you, but you're not."

"And here I thought you were just some stupid little mudblood—but you're not."

"I never told you I was a mudblood. You just assumed." James flicked his hair over his shoulder, clutching his bag tighter as he turned his attention back to the two hulks still blocking the doorway. "I was just leaving. Mind getting out of the way."

Neither boy moved.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle." Barbie Spawn said carelessly. "I'm Draco Malfoy, by the way. We've met several times but I don't think you ever got my name."

"I got it, alright. I just chose to ignore it. To me, you'll always be Barbie Spawn. Mind getting Boils and Crabs to move? They don't make good door mats."

The two large boys started cracking their knuckles threateningly, and James sighed. "As you wish."

He pulled out an old trick, winking at them and concentrating hard. In a matter of seconds all three nuisances were staring at him with wide eyes.

"What are you doing!? Stop!"

"I'm not doing a thing." James said saucily, grinning wickedly as he approached the door again. "Now, I asked you to move. Don't want your bits permanently damaged, do you?"

They scrambled out of the way, and James stopped in the doorway. "By the way, give your father my best—hope he'll be able to walk straight again." And with that he walked away, deftly stepping around Hermione as she rushed towards their compartment to investigate the continued shouting as the three boys pants continued to shrink.

James quickly hid his smirk as people leaned out of their compartments to watch him go by—many of them were whispering, but most didn't even bother to keep their voices down.

"That's Harry Potter? He's scrawnier than I thought he'd be..."

"…doesn't like his name…"

"…wants people to call him James, after his father…"

That startled James, but he didn't let it show as he carefully made his way further down the train. His father's name was James?

There was still so much he needed to learn.

Sighing, he stopped in between two of the cars and took a deep breath. So it began. He couldn't even have peace for the full train ride.

It was starting to get dark, and there was more bustling going on in the compartments as he passed them. He finally took a seat in a half-empty compartment with older students. They were already changed into their robes and submerged in their books. They hardly even glanced at him when he quietly sat down and took out a book of his own.

A short while later a voice echoed through the train announcing that they would be arriving at Hogwarts in ten minutes and instructing them to leave all luggage on the train. Several of the students in the compartment started when they put their books away and caught sight of James for the first time, but none of them said anything.

James fidgeted nervously, slowly putting his book back in his bag and stashing it on one of the overhead racks. The other students watched him with interest, even as he slipped into the corridor while the train slowed down.

The rush for the door when the train stopped was typical, and James was well versed in making his way through crowds. He was one of the first off the train, stepping out onto the darkened platform. It was cold, and James regretted leaving his cloak in his bag.

Out of the darkness, a lantern shone over everyone's heads, and a great booming voice hollered, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

That man—Hagrid beamed at the startled looking first years that slowly gathered around him, his eyes eagerly searching the upturned faces. James kept his head ducked a bit, but was watching closely enough through his bangs so see Hagrid's smile fade a bit.

""C'mon, follow me—any more firs' years? Firs' years follow me!"

They moved as one, following slowly after the giant of a man that lead them away from the platform and down a narrow, steep path. In the lantern light, James made out thick trees on both sides of the path.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec. Jus' round this bend here."

"Oooooh!"

They were on the edge of a lake—and directly across from them, climbing up the side of a mountain was the castle. The windows were blazing with a warm, orange glow and the towers jutted proudly into the sky. James stared at it in silence, slowly moving further down the slope to the edge of the lake when the rest of the students started down. Hagrid instructed them into boats, and James found himself sitting with Neville and Hermione and some girl called Hannah Abbott.

The boats were still for a minute, before suddenly surging forward in one, smooth motion. They cut across the glassy surface of the lake, slowly drawing closer to the looming castle and taking them into a darker than night cavern. Only Hagrid's lantern shone on the still water when at last the boats bumped against an unseen shore line.

Lanterns flared to life around them as they climbed out of the boats, lighting a set of stone steps and a large oak door.

"Everyone, welcome to Hogwarts."

The door swung silently open, and they were greeted by a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes. Her face was stern, and James' first thought was that she was going to be one hell-of-a challenge.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

* * *

Severus was usually impatient for the sorting to start, mostly so it would get over with and he could escape the bloody charade of tradition that was the 'welcoming feast.' This year, however, Severus was actually looking forward to the sorting. He couldn't wait to find out who the Little Street Urchin was.

Finally, he saw Minerva in the side door and a second later the first years filed in. They all looked rather small, most were trembling slightly as several hundred gazes fell heavily on them.

Severus ignored all of them but one. He picked James out immediately. The boy was stoic, glancing around the hall and the interested faces without giving anything away. His eyes wandered towards the head-table, and he caught Severus' stare. The cheeky little brat smirked at him before turning his attention back to Minerva.

The stool was placed on the floor, and the hat dramatically waited until every eye was on it before breaking into its ridiculous song—the one it spent all year writing. At the end, there was prolonged applause before Minerva started calling out names.

Abbott, Hannah was first—she went to Hufflepuff. Severus stayed attentive, barely even paying attention when Crabbe was the first to get sorted into his own house. His eyes never left 'James.'

Just over half the kids were sorted when the first real distraction came. Minerva had just called Malfoy, Draco—who had gone instantly into Slytherin. A couple of names later and Potter, Harry was called. Excited whispering broke out all over the hall.

Severus scowled. In all the ruckus surrounding James, he hadn't been able to dwell on the fact that Potter's spawn was coming to the school. His eyes flicked up the line of first years, searching for the child that was likely to make his life a living hell for the next seven years.

He just about swallowed his tongue when James steadily stepped forward, nodding to Minerva before sitting on the stool and pulling the hat onto his head.

There was no possible way that the Street Urchin was Harry bloody Potter. It was _not _possible.

But apparently it was, because there the boy was sitting underneath the sorting hat that was taking entirely too long to decide when it was obvious that the boy would—

Would what?

Severus swallowed thickly, closing his eyes tightly for a second before opening them and staring at the hat with a morbid sense of certainty. There was no way—he knew exactly where that boy was going. That boy didn't belong anywhere but—

"Slytherin!"

There was mostly silence as James stood calmly, placing the hat back on the chair and slowly making his way to the furthest table. He caught Severus' eye again and just shrugged. No one applauded, and Severus felt slightly ill when he suddenly pondered all the ramifications.

The Street Urchin was Harry Potter. Harry Potter was not in fact living with his Muggle relatives, as Dumbledore believed, and had an attitude too big for one castle to hold. Said boy was sneaky, manipulative and cunning and had just been sorted into Slytherin, where most of the students had been raised to hate the name Harry Potter and the rest wouldn't be able to look past the fact that Potter was technically a 'half-blood.'

Whatever fears Severus had before about what sorts of trouble there would be when Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, it was nothing to what was actually delivered.

James was sitting quietly, watching the rest of the sorting and apparently oblivious to the fact that the whole of his house was staring at him—as was most of the hall. When finally, Zabini Blaise was sorted the Headmaster didn't have to call for silence.

"Welcome! Welcome to another new year at Hogwarts! I will have a few announcements—after the feast of course. Enjoy!"

It was only because he knew Albus so well that Severus could see the old man was disturbed—and he was willing to bet a lot that the old man was disturbed by the sorting of one Harry James Potter.

James. A sneer curled Severus' lip. That made so much sense after the fact. He even had Lily's eyes. How could he have not seen it?

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

Minerva was looking at him intensely. "You haven't even served yourself yet. You aren't brooding over the fact that Mr. Potter is one of your snakes, are you?"

"I am." Severus admitted. "But not for the reason's you think. We should have tea tomorrow. My office, after classes?"

Minerva nodded, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline.

The rest of the feast flashed in a blur, and soon the students were dismissed to their dormitories. Severus waited impatiently for the Great Hall to clear out, and walked as fast as he could back to his office. He didn't even halt his stride as he snatched some floo powder off the mantle and tossed it into the fireplace.

"Malfoy Manor!"

An elf showed him immediately to the drawing room, where Lucius and Narcissa were expecting him.

"Draco is in Slytherin?" Lucius asked, smiling slightly at Severus' curt nod. "And what of our Street Urchin? Did you find out who he is at long last?"

"I did." Severus gladly accepted the drink the house elf handed him, sitting down heavily and draining the cup.

"Well?" Lucius drawled, taking a sip of his own drink.

"James the Street Urchin is Harry bloody Potter."

Lucius spewed whiskey all down his front, and Narcissa choked slightly.

"You can't be serious!"

"I can." Severus leaned back in his chair. "And guess where he got sorted?"

"Slytherin." Both Lucius and Narcissa supplied, exchanging a glance.

"Severus? How is it that the so-called savior of the wizarding world was basically living on the streets of Muggle London? Are you certain it was him?"

"Positive." Severus sighed again. "Unfortunately, this raises even more questions than we had before and a whole slew of other problems. I am almost afraid to leave him alone in the Slytherin Dorms for the night."

"Don't be. If the boy could take on Greyback twice, he'll have no problem dealing with misguided adolescents." Lucius ran a hand through his hair. "You know, I've believed that Dumbledore is going senile for a long while, but this just iced the cake. How could he possibly have misplaced the Boy-Who-Lived so grievously?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11

The second he was sorted, James knew he was in for a rough ride. Of course, he'd read up on the houses and knew that Slytherin had a bit of a reputation—but he had honestly thought it was a bit exaggerated.

But considering the way the students from the other houses were glaring at him, he was starting to wonder. What was worse, his own house seemed rather pissed off that he had been sorted into Slytherin.

Seriously? It wasn't like he could help it. What did they expect, with a bloody mind-reading hat sorting people into houses?

James kept to himself through the feast, forcing himself to eat all the while trying to ignore the subtle itchy feeling that came from hundreds of eyes glued on him. No one spoke to him, which was a relief but at the same time annoyed him.

Finally, the feast was done and James listened half-heartedly to the Headmaster give his announcements—most of which were rules James completely wrote off. Then, they were dismissed and he lingered behind the crowd with the other first years as an older girl came forward.

There was a badge on her robes, and she quickly introduced herself. "I am Gemma Farley. I am a prefect. Follow me."

And they were off, heading out of the hall and cutting through the dispersing crowd. Instead of going up the staircase where most of the students seemed to be filing, they disappeared to the left and trudged down a dark, narrow staircase that was sparsely lit.

"These are the dungeons." Gemma explained briskly as they walked. "The Slytherin Dormitories are down here, as are the potions classes and our Head of House's office. For those of you that don't know, Professor Snape is our head of house."

This was directed at James, and he bristled silently but just arched an eyebrow at the girl. She sneered at him before continuing. "Aside from the regular school rules, Slytherin House has several in-house rules. Rule number one: any problems within Slytherin must stay in Slytherin. Rule  
number two: Any student of Slytherin that gets in trouble by any other member of staff will have to answer to Professor Snape as well. Rule number three: Tattling will not be taken seriously. Rule number four: Don't get caught."

By this time, they were stopped in a hallway outside a blank patch of wall.

"This is the entrance to the common room. The current password is 'Asphodel,' which Professor Snape feels is an ample reminder for everyone to read their potions text _thoroughly_ before the first potions class on Thursday."

The wall slid open before their eyes, and Gemma motioned them through the doorway. "This is the common room—this will be where you spend most of your free time. As you can see, there are plenty of books for studying. Be warned that the older students have priority with the books, as well as the couches."

James eyed the bookshelves carefully, glancing around the circular room with little enthusiasm. There was a distinctly wet feel in the air, and he suspected they were under the lake. The torches didn't do much to light up the room, and green and silver decorations were a bit overdone. Granted he did dig the snakes. And the leather couches.

"Right. Now, the boys dormitories are through there, and the girls through there. The first year dorms are marked. Off to bed with you lot."

Slowly, the group split and the girls disappeared through the door to the right of the fireplace. James followed the boys through the remaining doorway, grimacing when it showed more stone steps that took them down further. He was going to be living in a bloody cave!

The spiraling staircase took them down to a long straight corridor with doors leading off to either side. The first door on the right was marked as the bathroom, and the rest of the doors were marked by year. The first year door was at the very end of the hall.

"Rather gloomy down here, isn't it?" James muttered, ignoring the rest of his classmates when they just stared at him. Instead, he pushed into the first year dorm and quickly located which bed he wanted—the one closest to the door that was set slightly into an alcove in the wall but otherwise not closed in. Almost as if his thoughts were read, he noticed his bag sitting already at the foot of his bed.

"So, Potter." Barbie Spawn was speaking at last, and James could only roll his eyes. He didn't respond, instead fishing into his bag for his pajamas and his toothbrush.

"I'm talking to you, Potter."

"And I'm ignoring you, Spawn." James straightened up, leveling his best glare at the blonde boy. "Or do you want a replay of what happened earlier when you wouldn't leave me alone?"

The blonde paled somewhat, but defiantly lifted his chin in a refusal to back down. "You think you're so tough—but mark my words, you don't know what you're in for. Slytherin is no place for a filthy little half-blood that everyone fancies to be the 'savior' of the wizarding world. Here, you're nothing."

"I've always been nothing." James shrugged, "At least I know that and don't fancy myself to be important when I'm not."

Draco snarled. "My father—"

"Your father is a giant prat." James cut him off. "You shouldn't be using your father to make threats to me—I've dealt with him before. I know how to handle him."

With that James slipped out of the room, heading down the hall to the bathroom. Several of the older students glared at him as he passed, but he ignored them.

The bathroom was cold and dark, and James swore loudly. He quickly changed into his pajamas, wincing at the cold stone floor under his bare feet. The water that came out of the taps in the sink was icy, and took forever to warm up. He brushed his teeth, taking out his contacts and cleaning them thoroughly. When his glasses were securely on his nose he slipped back down to the first year dorms.

The rest of his dorm-mates were huddled around Spawn's bed. They glared at him when he came in. James rolled his eyes, stuffing his things back into his bag and settling himself down with a book. The lanterns that lined the room didn't provide nearly enough light, and he felt a headache forming as he squinted down at the words.

"Ridiculous." James muttered, subtly pulling his wand out of his sleeve and muttering a quiet "lumos." He adjusted the light a bit so it wasn't so blinding and settled down with _Actions and Reactions: Knowing How Your Brew Will React Before You Add the Next Ingredient_. He'd only read about half of it.

His roommates seemed to get bored when he didn't pay any attention to them, and slowly they started drifting off to bed. James waited until well after their breathing had evened out before putting his book away and trying to get some sleep himself. He felt exposed in the dorm, and wasn't quite sure what to do about it. It was obvious that most of his house had it out for him.

Sure enough, a while after he'd nixed the lights but long before he was anywhere near falling asleep the door creaked open. He saw three people outlined in the dim light from the hallway.

"Shh. Don't wake him up. Which bed is he in?"

"Lumos."

James kept himself still as the three figures crept closer to him, already fisting his wand under the covers. He kept his eyes mostly lidded, kept his breathing even as they approached the bed.

"What are we going to do to him?"

"Teach him a lesson, of course. Can't have Harry bloody Potter going around thinking he's all that, can we? We have to put him in his place."

James had heard enough, quickly shooting out a half-dozen spells. Before the three older students could react, they were slumped on the ground and bound tight, mostly sporting large, painful boils.

"I thought Slytherin's were supposed to be smart and sneaky." James huffed, crawling out of bed to stand over the three students. Two of them had badges on their robes—one was a prefects badge but the other was something else. None-the-less it was obvious he was supposed to be important.

James noticed Spawn and two other boys had woken up, and they were staring at him with wide eyes.

"I knew the second that I was sorted that I was going to have problems—is the whole bloody house out to get me?"

No one answered.

"Right." James shook his hair out of his eyes. He snatched up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and stepping around the three older students. "I'll just have to find somewhere else to sleep then, won't I?"

Again, no one answered and James walked firmly out of the first-year room. A few heads peaked out of the other rooms as he made his way to the staircase. The common room was mostly empty, except for the girl prefect he'd met earlier—Gemma Farley.

"Where do you think you're going?" She crossed her arms, staring down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Somewhere people won't try to curse me in my sleep." James muttered, growling when she stepped in front of him to block his way out of the common room.

"Its past curfew, and you don't know your way around the castle."

"I'll take my chances." James glared up at the older girl. "Please move."

Gemma just laughed, placing a hand on James forehead and pushing him forcefully backwards. "Get back to bed."

James batted her hand away, his wand trained on her in an instant. "I asked you nicely."

"Are you threatening me, little boy?"

"Nope." James grinned at her. "Just giving you fair warning."

Before the prefect could whip out her own wand James muttered "Incarcerous." When she tumbled to the ground, tightly bound he followed up with "Furnunculus."

"I don't much like people trying to hurt me." James said simply, stepping over the fallen prefect and slipping out of the hidden doorway. The dungeon corridors were even colder than the common room, and James was still a little unsure of his way as he slowly followed the path he was fairly certain took him back to the upper levels.

He'd just barely managed to find his way to the entrance hall when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, sending his heart racing to pound in his throat. He whirled around, screaming out the first spell that came to mind.

"Petrificus Totalis!"

Severus Snape expertly deflected the spell, hand squeezing harder on James' shoulder as black eyes narrowed in anger. "Mr. Potter. I should have known. Your first night in the castle and you're already blatantly flouting the rules."

James tried to shrug off the hand, nervously swallowing at the obvious disdain rolling off the potions master. Go figure—this man probably hated 'Harry Potter' as much as the rest of Slytherin.

"Back to the dorms with you. Detention after dinner tomorrow evening. I'll expect you in my office at 6:00 sharp. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." James spat, finally squirming out of the firm hold the man had on his shoulder. He subtly tried to massage away the ache as he turned on his heel and marched back down towards the dungeons. Alarmingly, Snape followed him silently.

"Perhaps you would enlighten me as to how the great 'Harry Potter' came to be running the streets in the muggle world."

James remained stubbornly silent, gritting his teeth at the way the professor practically spat his name. Pity—he'd really thought he'd be able to get along with the man at school.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Potter."

"I couldn't tell you. Why don't you go ask whatever people were responsible when my parents died—they're the ones that dumped me there." James snapped, coming to a hard stop roughly around where he was certain the door to the common room was. "Asphodel."

The wall swung open a few feet away, and Snape pushed him forward harshly when James hesitated before going in.

"Stop touching me!" James whirled around, fists clenched and eyes blazing. "I don't like people touching me, and I'm not a bloody rag-doll so stop fucking treating me like one!"

The collective gasp that rose behind him was enough to let him know that the previously deserted common room certainly wasn't empty any more.

"Watch your language, boy!" Snape snarled. "Add another two detentions to the one you've already earned. I will not be spoken to like that."

"Oh you won't, will you?" James muttered, sneering at the man before turning to glare at his house mates. Four of them were still sporting large boils on their faces and necks, and the pustules were already starting to burst open. James snickered as he stomped across to the door that lead down to the boys dormitories. It was going to be a long night—two nights in a row without sleep was pushing it.

* * *

Severus watched 'James' disappear downstairs with narrowed eyes before focusing on the students that were still awake in the common room. They shifted nervously, and his eyes honed in on the four students shifting guiltily with pained winces as the visible boils on their skin continued to rupture.

"What happened to you four?"

None of them spoke, instead just ducking their heads.

"Don't just stand there oozing all over the place. Get up to the hospital wing and get those taken care of." Severus snarled. "The rest of you, get to bed! And I better not have to come here again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir." Came the mingled reply as his snakes quickly disappeared down into their dormitories. Severus hesitated, eyes on the doorway to the boy's dormitory. It was obvious to him what happened—the older students had already made their first move against Potter. And the boy had gained the upper hand.

He hadn't been nearly as sly about as he needed to be, and blindly rushing out of the dorms in the dead of night was not exactly cunning either.

Severus decided against going down to check on the boy—it was unlikely that his house would try anything more that night. Not when Severus was in a foul mood.

And his mood was foul. Harry Potter had been in the castle for a few short hours and already he was causing trouble all over the place. That insufferable little brat!

Part of Severus knew that he wasn't exactly being fair to the boy—he'd been quite fond of the kid before he'd found out who he was. And logically, he knew that it was improbable that the boy had turned out anything like his dead father.

And yet… he couldn't get over the fact that the spawn of James Potter was in his house.

Shaking his head, Severus left the Slytherin common room and headed to complete his rounds. The first night was always the prime opportunity to catch students out of bed. Particularly couples that hadn't seen each other all summer.

Instead, he came across four of his snakes that hadn't managed to make it to the hospital wing, and instead were crouched in a dark corridor and arguing fiercely.

"How was I supposed to know? He's a bloody first-year—and we all thought he was asleep! But no, he just shoots up and starts blasting off spells he shouldn't even be learning for another four years at least!" Montague was growling, scratching at the boils on his face.

"He was fast." Farley added. "He had his wand out before I could even react. We'll have to take him by surprise next time."

Severus cleared his throat loudly, feeling a grim sense of triumph when all four students jumped. "A week's worth of detention for all of you. I told you to get to the hospital wing."

Montague looked like he wanted to argue, but snapped his mouth shut at the last second.

"And while I hardly think that in and of itself is the reason for such a harsh punishment, as you are already punishing yourself by putting off seeing Madame Pomfrey, more importantly you have broken rule four. Don't. Get. Caught."

Four pairs of eyes blinked at him, before dropping to the floor sheepishly.

"To the hospital wing, now! Before I really lose my temper."

The four students nearly ran off down the corridor.

Severus stared after them, grimly coming to realize that he had just broken his all-time record. All in all, he'd handed out 31 detentions on the first night—and the night was still young. He'd have to hand the older students off to Filch—he intended to use Potter's detentions to interrogate the boy.

* * *

James felt fried by the time morning finally came around—he'd spent the entire night leaning against the wall at the head of his bed, his eyes trained on the door and his wand clenched in his fist. He finally got up just after four, taking his bag with him as he padded down the hall to the bathroom.

There were separated shower stalls with curtains and cubbies to hold clean towels. James was thankful for that, stuffing his bag into the cubby and feeling a slight tingle of enchantment around the little shelf. Only when he turned the water on did he understand that there was a magical barrier there keeping the water out of the shelves.

He kept his wand in easy reach as he stripped, turning on the water and stifling a yelp when it came out freezing. It took a good ten minutes to heat up properly, and James cursed violently, feeling incredibly exposed as he shivered naked in the stall. At any second another student could come in, and he wasn't looking forward to the next batch of trouble.

Finally, the water was steaming, and James quickly shampooed his hair, scrubbing himself furiously and quickly rinsing off. It was sorely tempting to stay under the hot water, as it was the first time he'd been truly warm since he'd stepped foot in the dungeons. Common sense had him turning the water off as soon as the suds were rinsed off his body and he furiously toweled himself off.

James swore when the shower curtain was ripped open, snatching up his wand. "Fuck off!"

The boy that stood sneering at him was only a few years older, and he was tall. James didn't lower his wand as the boy continued to stare at him.

"What the fuck are you looking at!?"

"A skinny little freak—who carved you up, huh?"

James bristled, gritting his teeth at the reference to his scars. "Ureniscabium!"

The boy leapt out of the way of the spell, still not drawing his own wand. His eyes were narrowed in amusement. "You think you're so tough, don't you? Just because you know your way around a spellbook…"

"Flint!"

The boy jumped, turning to stare at whoever was calling to him. He shot James a nasty grin before sliding the curtain shut again.

James remained frozen, his wand still aimed at the curtain before one-handedly trying to pull his clothes out of his bag. He ended up holding his wand in his mouth while he pulled his pants on, quickly pulling a long-sleeved shirt over his head and trying to stop shaking as he stared suspiciously at the closed curtain before pulling his robes on. With his wand stashed up his sleeve, he scurried to pack his stuff back up and peeked out the shower curtain.

There were a few boys in the bathroom, and they mostly ignored him when he hurriedly passed through.

"First years aren't supposed to be out of bed until six!"

James ignored whoever called after him, clutching his bag tighter as he swept up the stairs and into the common room. There was no one there, and he gladly darted across the room and out into the corridor—silently swearing to himself that he wouldn't be coming back that night.

James came across a ghost on his way up to the Great Hall—the ghost had chains on him and a wide, gaping, bleeding wound in his chest. Harry shuddered under the ghost's gaze, inching around him as he tried to continue down the corridor.

"Where do you think you're going so early?"

James startled at the deep raspy voice. "What's it to you?"

"It isn't appropriate for first-years to be wandering the halls at this time."

"Yeah? Is it appropriate for first-years to be cursed when they're trying to sleep?" James snapped, pressing himself flat against the wall of the corridor when the ghost glided well into his personal space.

"I would hope that you cursed them back."

"I did my best."

The ghost continued to stare at him. "They call me the Bloody Baron. I'm the ghost of Slytherin House."

"Er… Nice to meet you. I'm James."

The Bloody Baron blinked at him. "Strange. I was so sure you were Harry Potter."

"I am—but I go by James." James sighed in relief when the Bloody Baron backed off a bit.

"Rule Four of Slytherin House." The Baron said, his voice eerily calm. "Don't get caught."

James' jaw dropped, and for a moment he couldn't think of anything to say. Then, he nodded. "Thanks. I won't if I can help it."

"You better learn to help it quick." The Bloody Baron smiled ferociously, before disappearing into the opposite wall. James froze when he heard sharp, sure footsteps echoing down the corridor. He was willing to bet those footsteps belonged to Snape, and James would be damned if he was going to get _another_ detention before he even had his first class.

Silently, he crouched down and started moving away from the footsteps, ducking away from the main corridor at the first possibility. The side corridor was smaller, and he followed it as fast as he could, hoping to find a turn. Instead, he found a dead-end and even in the poor light from the torch-lit passage he still had a good view of the main corridor. He was in plain sight.

Forcing a deep breath, James crouched low to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing hard on not being seen. The footsteps were growing louder, and he tensed while he chanted under his breath. "You can't see me… you can't see me…"

The footsteps came to an abrupt halt, and James resisted the urge to glance up. He stayed frozen, silencing his muttering but continuing his chanting in his head. After what seemed like forever, the footsteps picked up again. James remained frozen until they had disappeared altogether.

"That was well-done."

James slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from screaming, aiming his wand at the voice to his right. The Bloody Baron was half-hanging out of the wall.

"You might want to get a move on. Breakfast will be starting soon and you don't want to miss it. For the first two weeks you'll be showed to all your classes by a prefect, but after that you'll be on your own."

James nodded, standing and straightening out his robes. He crept towards the main corridor, slipping his wand back up his sleeve. The Bloody Baron was floating after him as he slowly made his way up to the Great Hall.

"Why are you following me?"

"It's been a long time since I've seen a student that was so purely Slytherin." The ghost said simply. "Mostly, Slytherin has been turned into a club for elite, pureblood families rather than attracting those students with the most intelligence and cunning. When you're a ghost, there are few things that still manage to catch your attention."

James nodded, easing into the Great Hall and taking a seat at Slytherin Table. Snape was already seated at the front of the room, and he glared heatedly. James sneered, sitting down as far away from the man as he could.

"You're not getting along with your head of house?"

"He doesn't like me—not since he found out I'm Harry Potter. He was fine with me before." James whispered. "Don't know what his problem is now. I hadn't got the feeling that he was a Voldemort supporter since I met him—but last night, after he found out who I was he started treating me like something he stepped in."

"I see. Perhaps I shall have to have a talk with him—remind him about Rule Five."

"What's Rule Five?" James asked. "The prefect last night only gave us four rules."

"Rule Five," The Baron muttered as he glided towards the head-table, "Never turn on your fellow Slytherins."

James blinked as the ghost left him completely. Someone needed to send that memo to the whole bloody house. Shaking his head, he slowly dished some eggs and sausage on his plate, searching fruitlessly for coffee. He had to settle on breakfast tea, and grimaced as he drank it.

By the time the Great Hall was finally full, James was well-fed and bored. He was using pieces of toast to build a house, and jumped when someone came up behind him and flicked him hard in the ear.

"What is your problem?" James hissed, turning in his seat to glare at the older boy, eyes narrowing on the prefects badge displayed proudly on his chest. "Keep your fucking hands off me."

"Don't play with your food."

"I'll do whatever I please with my food, and if you don't like it you can go fuck yourself." James kept his voice low, so only the people nearest could hear him.

The older boy snarled, grabbing the back of James' robes and pulling him out of the seat. "I am a prefect. You will treat me with respect."

"You have to give respect to get it." James pushed out of the older boy's grip. "I told you not to touch me."

James had really never been so aggravated in his life—couldn't these people leave him alone for ten-fucking-minutes!? He was angry, he was confused, and he was tired as hell. So when the older boy reached for him again, it was no surprise that his temper snapped. Before the hand closed around the collar of his robes, he took hold of one of the fingers, bending it back as hard as he could and grinning in triumph when he heard the sickening 'snap.' He did it so fast he wasn't even sure if anyone realized what he had done.

The older boy paled, jerking his hand back and staring wide-eyed at his broken finger. His mouth fell open in shock, and his eyes widened.

"Just what is going on here? Mr. Pucey! Mr. Potter?"

James turned to the newly arrived professor—McGonagall, he was fairly certain. Her lips were pressed together, as she looked down at the prefect now identified as 'Pucey.'

"I'm sorry, professor." James ducked his head, glancing down at the floor. "Prefect Pucey here was chewing me out because I tripped him this morning—it was an accident, honest! I didn't stop to apologize or anything, and he was telling me off because his finger got broke in the fall. I kind of deserve getting told off. We're not trying to make a scene."

There was complete silence at that as all the nearby students seemed to hold their breath.

"I see. Very well. Apologize to Mr. Pucey for your careless actions, and then continue on with breakfast. Mr. Pucey, after you have accepted Mr. Potter's apology I suggest you head up to the infirmary to get that finger looked at. And in the future, you should deal with such manners with a little more finesse."

Pucey nodded dumbly.

"I'm really sorry." James said sincerely, shuffling his feet appropriately even as he was inwardly smirking.

"Er—that's alright." Pucey stared blankly at him, still clutching his hand to his chest.

"That wasn't that hard, now was it?" McGonagall chided. "Now, to the infirmary with you! Hurry, or you'll be late for your first class."

Pucey nodded, shooting a glare at James before walking out of the hall. James sat down slowly, pointedly avoiding glancing around at his fellow students that were staring at him. One of the other first years boldly moved down the table and sat across from him.

"How did you do that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." James muttered dully.

"You just broke a prefect's finger in the Great Hall, in front of everyone and managed to get away with it."

"I guess I have Rule Three to thank for that, don't I? And the fact that no one seemed to realize the broken finger happened in our scuffle—we were facing the wrong way for the professors to see that." James snorted, looking up at the skinny kid across from him. He had short cropped brown hair, and his eyes looked a little big for his face. His chin jutted out a bit. "I'm Theodore Nott—Teddy for short."

"James." James turned his attention back to his toast house, pointedly starting on a second story. He chanced a glance at the head table, glaring straight back at Snape as the potions master sneered at him.

"What you got against Snape?"

"Nothing. He's the one that's got a problem with me since he found out that I'm Harry fucking Potter." James snapped.

Teddy shifted uncomfortably. "Well, you are a half-blood."

"So I've been told." James snorted, quickly tearing up a piece of toast and using toothpicks to shape the pieces into a little stick figure man. He marched it solemnly across the roof of his toast house, giving it a squeaky voice. "Goodbye, cruel world!"

He made his little toast man jump off the house, making a whistling falling sound and ending with a very loud, "SPLAT!" After that, he made a point of tearing up more toast to make a funeral procession of little toast people. He had just set up a proper memorial service for his toast man—who he unceremoniously named 'Bob'—when Gemma Farley stood up, clearing her throat. Only then did James realize that most of his housemates were watching his perverse little enactment.

"I'll be escorting the first years to and from classes this week, and perhaps next week as well. I have your schedules here." She quickly passed them out, hesitating before she handed James one. James smirked, guessing quite correctly what her thought process was. She could take the opportunity to try and torment him, but there was the risk of getting in trouble in full view of the entire school. Worse, there was the possibility of it back-firing on her like it had with Pucey.

That in and of itself was progress. It proved that he might be able to make them back off, even if he couldn't make them actually like him. James smirked again, almost bursting out laughing when several of his year-mates shifted nervously and moved away from him.


	13. Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12

Severus was having a hell of a time focusing on his grading—the stack of summer assignments in front of him was very tall and for the life of him he just couldn't find appropriately snarky comments to graffiti over the essays with. He was too pre-occupied with 'James.'

The boy was so Slytherin it almost put Severus to shame.

He was almost one-hundred percent certain that Potter had done something to Pucey in the Great Hall at breakfast—if the way his classmates had reacted was any indication. But none of the teachers had a good view of the situation, and of course none of his snakes were likely to be forthcoming with the true story.

All the same, Severus was almost positive that Pucey's broken finger was no accident. Potter didn't like to be touched, and Pucey was quite the bully.

All the same, Severus simply could not wrap his mind around the fact that a first-year had gotten away with forcefully breaking another student's finger in the middle of breakfast, in full view of the school. Then, directly afterwards the boy had simply sat down and continued playing with his food as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

And Minerva had bought whatever tale Potter had spun for her on the spot. He really was a great little liar. On top of that, he had made enough of an impact that the older students were obviously not going to be picking on him in public anymore, and risk getting embarrassed when Potter played them like he had played Pucey.

He became aware that Minerva had just arrived outside his office door, opening the door with a flick of his wand and smirking at the older woman as she slowly lowered her arm from where it was raised to knock. "Come in. Tea?"

"That would be lovely." Minerva sniffed slightly, pulling out her wand to transfigure one of Severus' hard wooden chairs into a plush armchair—a red and gold armchair. Severus rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything.

"How were your classes today?" Minerva asked politely as she accepted the cup of tea from Severus.

"The same as they always are. I feel like I'm wasting my breath trying to teach these dense creatures that try to pass themselves off as small human beings."

"Now Severus…" Minerva shook her head. "I hear you broke your record again last night. Forty-seven detentions on the first night? That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Hardly. Most of those detentions were given to my snakes."

"Yes. I've heard whispers that there was trouble in the snake den last night. Harry Potter has caused quite an uproar." Minerva set her cup down on the desk and fixed Severus with a cold glare. "I had him in class today. Very quick on the uptake. Transfigured the match into a needle on the first try. I do hope you aren't letting any _personal_ feelings affect the way you're treating him. He looked about dead on his feet today."

"That is because he didn't sleep last night, I'd imagine." Severus scowled. "I caught him out after curfew last night—he was trying to sneak out of the dorms because of some of the older student's treatment of him."

"Were the older students punished?"

"Not directly. Rule Three." Severus said simply. "However, how is it you think I managed to assign so many detentions last night?"

"Rule Four." Minerva smirked slightly. "Do keep an eye on the situation. I have a feeling Mr. Potter is not going to fare well in Slytherin."

"I believe he'll do just fine." Severus sighed, bracing himself. "I wish to discuss an issue with you—a very serious issue. However, I want your word you will keep the matter to yourself until I am able to further delve into said issue. There are a lot of unanswered questions, and I have a feeling when I find the answers they're going to leave a bad taste in my mouth."

Minerva looked intrigued. "You have my word this conversation will stay between us. It isn't like you to be so evasive, Severus. Whatever this _issue_ is, it's big, isn't it?"

Severus nodded. "Do you recall when I came to you with questions about muggle-born students being overlooked? And seeking a 'James' on the enrollment list?"

"I certainly do."

"Over the course of the summer, I was busy following a boy I presumed to be a muggle-born. He had no prior knowledge of the Wizarding World, and his Hogwarts letter arrived without explanation. I was unable to find out much about him, other than the false name he used and the first names of several people he knows in the muggle world. I spent quite a bit of time trying to track him down, and I am rather ashamed that the boy was sly enough to give me the slip on almost every occasion. 'James' used contacts in the muggle world to discover Diagon Alley. The boy also made a habit of wandering down Knockturne Alley, picking fights with Fenrir Greyback and befriended a Hag that owns a bookstore."

Severus paused, carefully observing Minerva's reaction. "I finally gave up discovering the boy's identity when I worked through the enrollment list and marked off every student he couldn't possibly be—I ran out of names. Last night, I discovered at the sorting that 'James' is actually Harry Potter."

Minerva's eyebrows shot up, and Severus continued quickly.

"From what I did discover, I can tell you that Mr. Potter was abused when he was younger, somehow rescued from said abuse and allowed to run wild with no consequences—he frequently stays out late into the night, knows muggle London better than the back of his own hand, and the only adult in his life that I did managed to track down is a brain-dead man in a long-term hospital that has absolutely no motor functions or mental faculties."

Minerva blinked at him slowly, opening and closing her mouth a few times before swallowing. "You're telling me that Harry Potter—_the_ Harry Potter—has been shoveled around, unwanted in the muggle world for ten years?"

"Something like that." Severus leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily. "Worrisome, isn't it? That no one noticed that the boy savior was missing… Let alone running around like a miscreant and getting into all sorts of trouble. Whoever his muggle friends are, they were able to find the magical world for him and I got the impression there's a distinct connection to criminals."

"I'll admit, Mr. Potter wasn't exactly how I imagined him to be. I thought he'd be…" Minerva trailed off uncertainly.

"A carbon copy of his parents?" Severus hissed. "I as well—which is probably why I didn't realize. That and I had no reason to doubt that wherever Harry Potter was in this wide world, Dumbledore was having him well taken care of."

"It just makes no sense." Minerva stood abruptly, pacing the length of the cramped office twice before turning back to Severus. "How did this happen?"

"I intend to find out. I doubt it will be easy, however. Mr. Potter is guarded, an excellent liar and clever enough to keep those things hidden that he doesn't want anyone to know. When I have the time, I plan to try and track down any leads I can find from the man in the hospital—Carl Broderick—but I'm not certain that will go anywhere. I also think I'll pay a visit to the Dursleys. The school records still list them as his legal guardians, but Surrey is quite a ways from London. There's no way the boy was pounding the streets of London and still getting back to Little Whinging every night."

Minerva nodded smartly. "You want me to keep it a secret because you don't think Albus has a clue what happened to Mr. Potter, don't you? I agree wholeheartedly—we must keep it a secret. I was there when Albus left Harry on their doorstep. I warned him that it was a bad idea. But Albus has always been most convincing in an argument…"

Severus was silent.

"You said he was abused?" There was a suspicious gleam in Minerva's eyes.

"I don't know for certain myself, but I believe so. Very badly abused, if I am not mistaken."

"It had to be them, then. Those horrible people! If I find out they—I can't believe it! Lily's sister…"

Severus nodded, vanishing the remains of their cold tea. "I will keep you updated on what I find. Mr. Potter is serving his first detention this evening, and I plan on addressing some of these questions immediately. At the very least I might get a feel of where I should be looking. From what I've gleaned so far, Mr. Potter is of the opinion that he was simply abandoned in the muggle world when his parents died."

Minerva sighed. "That poor boy. If I find out that Albus is directly responsible for this—for this to happen he had to have not even checked on Harry! Not once! I guarantee Albus would have torn the country apart looking for Harry if he'd known the boy was missing!"

"And if he wasn't missing, but simply mistreated?" Severus asked gravely.

Minerva snapped her mouth shut, her eyes wide. "You're not suggesting…"

"I'm not suggesting anything yet. I'm just pointing out that maybe there was a reason no one ever checked on Mr. Potter's well-being, which in turn allowed him to fall through the cracks and end up running the streets."

Minerva looked like she dearly wanted to argue, but a sad, resigned look darkened her face instead. "I would argue with you on that, except I can see how it might be true. When Albus was leaving Harry at the Dursleys, he told me that he wished for Harry to grow up in an environment as different as possible from the spoiled upbringing he'd get if he were raised by a wizard family, growing up hailed as the 'savior' of the wizarding world. There were also protections with Petunia, seeing as how she was Lily's sister. Blood protections."

"He expects the Dark Lord to crawl out of the woodwork." Severus agreed. "Now that Potter's returned to the Wizarding World, I expect we'll be seeing him soon. Albus might not have all the answers, but he is right about that. I guarantee it."

* * *

James settled himself snugly into the unused classroom he'd found to hide in. Classes for the day had just ended, and he had a couple hours before dinner would be served, and another hour after that before he had to report to Snape for his first detention.

James was tired—absolutely exhausted. Classes hadn't been terribly hard—but he had a lot of homework. He had no clue where to start on the essays, either. He'd never written an essay before. And he had absolutely no desire to start on them at the moment.

The only thing he really wanted was to get some sleep.

But even that seemed risky, as he was crouched in an abandoned classroom, hidden behind an old desk and a stack of chairs. There was no guarantee that he'd be able to wake up in time, and the alarm clock he had was absolutely no good if there wasn't a bloody plugin anywhere in the bloody castle.

"Are you alright, young man?"

James startled, eyes wide and wand pointed before he even found the source of the voice. A ghost was poking his head through the wall, directly above James.

"I'm fine." James said shortly, shuddering when the ghost glided the rest of the way through the wall, an icy chill spreading over James when the spirit passed through him as well.

"What are you doing hiding in here all by yourself?" The ghost was a fat man, wearing very plain robes—he kind of looked like a monk.

"I'm not hiding. I just needed a quiet place to rest."

"And is your dorm not a quiet place to rest?"

"No. That's the place I'll go if I want to get obliterated by my housemates." James grumped. "See, they don't like me much because I'm _the_ Harry Potter and a 'filthy half-blood.'"

"Ah. Slytherin House has been quite thoroughly corrupted. It wasn't always like that, you know. Slytherin used to be the strongest house, embracing strong individuals and making them even stronger by encouraging them to become like a family—strong, unbreakable, unified. That changed after the Dark Lord passed through the house. He took that concept of family and turned it into a recruiting ground for followers that were little more than slaves."

"I can see that." James sighed. "Right about now, I'm wishing I'd been sorted anywhere else."

"It will all work out." The ghost patted his arm reassuringly, and James winced at the icy feeling. "You belong in Slytherin. The Bloody Baron has been in a splendid mood all day. This is the first time he's smiled in fifty years."

James blinked at the ghost. "That doesn't change the fact that I can't even sleep in my own dorm because everyone there wants to hurt me."

"That's why you're hiding here, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Kind of wary about falling asleep though. Don't know if I'll wake up in time to make it to my detention at 6:00."

"Sleep, young one. I'll make sure someone comes through to wake you."

James hesitated. "Do you think it would be safe to sleep here? I don't want someone sneaking up on me in my sleep."

The ghost just smiled at him. "You'll be quite safe, lad."

James nodded, reaching into his bag and pulling out his cloak. It warmed him right up as he curled up on the floor, using his bag as a pillow. His eyes felt heavy, and it took only a few seconds for him to fall asleep.

* * *

By 6:15, Severus was absolutely furious. Potter was late for his detention. By 7:00, he had figured out that the boy wasn't coming. When he'd gone searching for the boy, it turned out none of his housemates had seen him since the end of class. Less than twenty-four hours in the castle and Harry bloody Potter was already missing.

Severus could almost feel the grey hairs threatening to grow in. That boy was going to be the death of him.

He had scoured all the usual places—he wasn't in the library, the kitchens, the astronomy tower, the quidditch pitch or by the lake. It was absolutely infuriating.

Yet Severus didn't want to get anyone else involved unless he knew for sure the boy was in trouble. Chances were, he thought he was being clever by skiving off detention and had found a good place to hide.

There was a simpler solution. He chose to enlist the help of the ghosts to find the boy. They could quickly scour the castle and locate the errant child—or inform him if the boy was not in the castle and he did indeed need to raise the alarm.

Which was how he found himself following the Fat Friar to an unused classroom on the fifth floor where he'd come across the boy earlier that day. The round fool was apologizing profusely, saying he'd promised to make sure Potter was awake in time for detention—but that he'd forgotten all about him. And he was begging Severus not to punish the boy further.

Potter was still fast asleep when Severus swept into the classroom, didn't even twitch when Severus marched up to his hiding spot behind a stack of chairs and desks.

"Mr. Potter!"

Severus only felt a little bad when the boy startled awake, throwing an arm protectively over his head as if he were going to be struck.

"You were supposed to report to my office well over an hour ago. Instead, I find you in a forbidden section of the castle, sleeping on the floor like a dog. Why is that?"

Green eyes blinked slowly up at him.

"Answer the question, boy!"

Still, the boy was silent and Severus growled in frustration. He latched firmly onto the boys arm, pulling him roughly to his feet. "Grab your things. If this is how you're going to behave, I will personally see to it you are under house arrest until your behavior improves."

"Get your fucking hands off of me!"

There was the fight, but Severus only tightened his grip as he dragged Potter out of the classroom and towards the stairs.

"What the fuck is your problem! I thought the head of house was supposed to be there for the students, not lording over them and treating them like shit just because of bloody political views!?" The boy was throwing all his weight in trying to wrench his arm free, though it wasn't working at all.

Severus did come to halt at the accusation, his eyes narrowing at the boy. "First, you will stop cursing at me this instant or I will wash your mouth out with something vile. Second, you will explain that comment. What do you mean, my political views?"

"It's only bloody obvious! You were fine with me before, but the second you find out I'm Harry fucking Potter you start treating me like the spawn of the devil! So either you're pissed off that Voldemort kicked the bucket because of me, or you hate half-bloods, or both. Just like the rest of the bloody house!"

Severus stared down at the boy, whose teeth were gritted in anger and pain. Severus abruptly released him when he realized his knuckles had gone white with the force of his grip.

"You believe I dislike you because I am angry about the Dark Lord's downfall?" Severus asked quietly.

"Don't you?" Hurt green eyes stared up at him. "It's not like I can think of any other reason you would go from being pretty friendly to hating my guts overnight. The only change is that now you know my real name, and from what I've learned that's what comes with the name."

Severus forced himself not to roll his eyes. "I do not dislike you because of your miraculous defeat of the Dark Lord." He tensed when he felt the subtle brush against his occlumency shields again, but didn't call Potter on it.

"So it's because I'm a 'filthy half-blood' then?"

"Don't be absurd. I am a half-blood myself, a true half-blood. Your mother was a muggle-born, not a muggle."

"Then what is your fucking problem!" The boy started pacing, still rubbing his arm. "I don't understand! What did I do wrong!?"

"You're rude and insubordinate—and you're blatantly breaking school rules."

"Bullshit! You haven't stopped fucking glaring at me since you heard my name!"

"Watch your language, Mr. Potter!"

"There! You did it again! You hate my name! Don't you dare lie to me because I can tell! You can't stand the name 'Potter!'"

"Enough!" Severus grabbed the boy again, this time by the collar of his robes.

"Will you stop fucking man-handling me! I don't like being touched!"

Severus ignored his complaints, dragging him unceremoniously down to the dungeons. He bypassed the Slytherin common room, instead taking him to his office.

"In."

* * *

James stumbled a bit through the door when Snape pushed him, glaring darkly over his shoulder as he stepped into the office. He swung around sharply, fists clenched and teeth bared as the man shut the office door behind them with a definitive snap.

"What now? Going to teach me a lesson, are you? Going to break out the ruler? No that's probably not effective enough, right? It's a cane."

"Silence!" Snape slammed his hands down on his desk, causing several jars full of nasty things to rattle on their shelves around the room. Black eyes glared dangerously, and James snorted in defiance. "Or what? Going to beat me?"

"Gren was right. You are dearly in need of a sound spanking."

"Right. Because that would fix all the world's problems, right? If you touch me, I'll make your life a living hell." James hastily backed away when Snape straightened up and advanced on him. "I swear it! I'll do my best to fucking hurt you!"

"I warned you, Mr. Potter."

It was all the warning James got before he was coughing, choking on bubbles. He spat them out, but they just kept coming until he was on the floor, retching.

"You will learn to watch your language, Mr. Potter."

James glared up at the man through watering eyes. "You're one of those types, then? You're always in the right, can't possibly be in the wrong. It's okay for you to toss your students about, because obviously we deserve it, right?"

"You are creating mountains out of mole-hills, Mr. Potter."

"Stop calling me that! I fucking hate that name! And how many times have you grabbed me, shook me around, dragged me like a bloody rag-doll after I told you to stop touching me! Fucking tosser—"

James gagged as his mouth was once again overflowing with soap and bubbles.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter."

"Go fuck yourself!" James leapt desperately to the side when Snape flicked his wand at him, feeling distinctly pleased when a patch of the floor was suddenly oozing bubbles. He was less pleased when he was unable to dodge the next spell.

Pulling his wand on the potions master turned out to be a mistake as well, as it went zooming out of his hand at barely a twitch of the man's wand.

"I do not relish having to put you in your proper place." Snape drawled slowly, sitting down smoothly at his desk with James' wand in his hand. James glared at him through tear-filled eyes, still gagging on the soapy mixture in his mouth.

"And what is my proper place, then? Underneath your boot?"

"Do not be ridiculous. I am your professor. More importantly, I am your head of house. You will treat me with the proper respect."

"Respect has to be earned. I have no respect for some slimy bastard that thinks it's fun to push around kids and lord over them like some fucking—" James roared around the newest bout of soap spewing from his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and spitting out desperately. "Fuck you! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!"

Several jars in the room exploded, sending slimy pickled animal parts splattering around the office. James was breathing hard, pushing himself to his feet and glaring at Snape. His fists were clenched, and he couldn't stop the angry tears in his eyes. "Fuck you! I would never have come here in the first place if I knew it was going to be like this! This is almost as bad as—"

James snapped his mouth shut, ducking when another spell was flicked at him. He dodged again, lunging at the door and pulling desperately on the handle that wouldn't budge. He slumped against the wood, tensing when he heard a chair scrape across the floor. A few seconds later a hand descended on his shoulder and he could do nothing more than slap it away. "Stop fucking touching me! What are you, some kind of pervert!?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, slamming his head against the door with a 'thud.' "Get on with it, then. Get it over with so I can get the fuck out of here."

"Just what do you imagine I am going to do to you, Mr. Potter?"

"Put me in my place, right? Knock me down a few pegs?" James muttered, tensing when the hand returned to his shoulder. He let himself be dragged across the room and pushed into the hard wooden chair in front of the desk. Snape stood over him for a second, before holding out James' wand.

James glared up at the man. "What's this? Thought you were going to teach me a lesson."

"You are obviously far too distressed to listen to a word I say at the moment. Maybe if you feel a little more secure you could calm down enough to hear me when I speak. Take your wand, shut up and listen!" Snape growled, pushing the wand into James' hand. "You're foolish dramatics are unnecessary and tiresome."

James took his wand, staring down at it while Snape stomped back around his desk. He sat down smoothly, but James could make out the tick in the man's forehead and the black eyes were burning. "Say what you have to say then."

"Enough! Do you suppose you are proving something with your smartass remarks?"

"I'm proving that you can't break me!" James snapped, crossing his arms. "You'll never break me."

"I am not trying to break you, you foolish boy. You are in dire need of a lesson about respect!"

"That's funny! The blind leading the blind, then? Where are we headed? A short fall off a tall ledge?"

"How absolutely hysterical you are, Mr. Potter. Funny. Hilarious. I'm positively rolling." Snape said dryly, crossing his own arms over his chest to match James' unyielding posture. "Perhaps you can take the time to explain to me just why you are so convinced that I want to harm you."

"Because you already have." James yelled. "Unless you think squeezing the bloody life out of my arm is just meant to tickle a bit!"

"Don't be overdramatic. I doubt that even bruised!"

"It did too!"

"Very well. Show me."

James froze, eyes widening. "I'm not taking off my clothes."

"For goodness sake! You are impossible!"

James winced when Snape slammed his fists down on the desk, jumping up and backing away when the man was once again back on his feet. "Don't come near me!"

"You cannot make bold accusations about me hurting your person and then refuse to show the evidence, Mr. Potter. If you truly feel I have abused you in some manner I will march you straight up to the infirmary and have Madame Pomfrey examine you." Snape walked slowly around the desk, not stopping until James aimed his wand at him.

"No."

"No to what, Mr. Potter?"

"No. I'm not some fucking nancy boy that needs to go to the hospital every time I get bruised or scraped up." James hissed. "I've handled a hell-of-a-lot worse than some stupid little bruise from some asshole that thinks kids are meant to be dragged around like fucking rag-dolls."

Snape hissed himself. "Language! You will stop cursing in my presence!"

"I'll stop cursing at you when you stop giving me reason to!"

* * *

Two hours later, Severus was sitting at his desk, his throat hoarse from yelling and his head pounding from trying to deal with the bloody nuisance that was Harry James Potter.

The little shit was impossible. Completely, utterly impossible. Every word out of the little truant's mouth had been an accusation or utter profanity. And cleaning his mouth out had just made it worse!

"I suppose I could have handled that better." Severus muttered quietly, eyeballing his trashed office. Most of the jars around the room were cracked, if not completely smashed to bits. The stack of summer assignments awaiting grading on his desk were soaked in a mixture of embalming fluids, animal parts and suds from the 'scourgify' he'd kept hitting James with. The wooden chair in front of his desk was broken, and his door was singed from James trying to blast his way out of the office. "I could have handled that much better than I did. And I accused Lucius of having no tact."

Severus groaned, letting his head thunk against the desk. He'd finally gotten so frustrated after arguing with the boy that he'd just told him to leave, to get the hell out of his office and go do whatever the hell he wanted.

So the boy had gotten off without a punishment at all.

Severus was somewhat curious as to whether or not he'd just been played, or whether the boy was really that screwed up. If it was the latter, then whatever abuse had plagued the boy was a lot worse than Severus originally believed. A lot, lot worse.

But if the boy hadn't actually been as upset over the whole ordeal as he'd let on, then Severus had just been played like a fool. He hadn't even managed to reassign the detentions the boy owed him. It was bloody ridiculous.

It was completely aggravating.

Further, Pucey had come to him about twenty minutes earlier to report the headcount at curfew. Potter hadn't showed up back at the dorm. The little shit was breaking curfew again. Not that Severus blamed him for that. He well remembered his own days being an outcast—a half-blood in Slytherin. Being a half-blood and _the_ Harry Potter couldn't be a walk in the park by any means.

Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and pushing himself heavily to his feet. He'd worry about it in the morning.

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	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

James was of the opinion that Hagrid was an oaf—a very nice oaf, but still an oaf. He reminded James of a larger, hairier Lou—but without that hard edge that made him dangerous to cross.

The giant of a man was incredibly nice—he'd invited James over for tea, and was probably the only person at Hogwarts that wasn't angry because James had been sorted into Slytherin.

All the same, James wasn't sure how to handle himself around the man who knew his parents—knew them well, if the stories he told were true. Nor was he sure what to do with the belated birthday gift the man had given him—a snowy white owl. How the hell was he supposed to keep an owl when he lived in the muggle world?

The owl was very pretty, but grouchy—so much so that James lovingly named her Crotchety Anne. She didn't seem to like that at all. James had the bite marks on his fingers to prove it.

"Come on! What else do you expect me to call you if all you've done is snapped at me!?" James yelled up at the rafters in the owlery. Anne ignored him, keeping her back to him.

"Please come down. I didn't mean it. You're really pretty!" James huffed, crossing his arms and stomping his foot. "I have a letter for you to take to Hagrid for me, please? I wanted to send him a thank you note!"

Still, the owl ignored him and James gave up. "Fine. I'll use a school owl."

Before he had a chance to tie his letter onto one of the school owls, Anne swooped down and landed so heavily on his shoulder that he tumbled over. Talons dug into his chest, and he glared up at the owl as he lay splayed out on the disgusting floor, surrounded by owl droppings.

"You did that on purpose."

Anne hooted laughingly, holding out her leg expectantly. She snapped at his fingers as he tied the short note to her leg.

"Will you stop that? I'm going to sell you to the Chinese Restaurant back home if you don't."

Anne hooted again, taking off from his chest abruptly and flying out of the high windows in the owlery. James sat up, rubbing the gouges in his chest. "Bloody moody females. What did I do to deserve that?"

Someone laughed at him, and James was absolutely mortified when he looked up and noticed a handful of students in the doorway of the owlery—he was fairly certain they were Hufflepuffs. He scrambled quickly to his feet, brushing his robes off and glaring at them evenly. "You laugh now, but in two months' time I'll have an attack owl that will be able to pull off assassinations."

They only laughed harder, and James rolled his eyes as he left the owlery.

James had quickly come to the conclusion that he was not going to be able to go it alone at Hogwarts. Not only did his own house despise him, but the other houses seemed to hold his sorting into Slytherin as a betrayal. On top of that, Slytherin just wasn't liked by the other houses at all.

It was completely infuriating—these people didn't even know him, but they were so quick to decide they absolutely hated him.

It had been three days since his blowout with Snape, and his first potions class was that morning. James was absolutely dreading it, as he hadn't returned to the Slytherin Common room at all since the first night—something he was certain Snape knew.

At least he'd read all his potions books.

Breakfast was always pretty quiet, as most of the students were still groggy. Since the first day, no one had bothered James at the Slytherin table—none of the prefects even chewed him out when he played with his food. As he had been camping out in different areas of the castle, he was always up early and got to breakfast well before the first-years were technically allowed out of bed. But so far, no one had called him on it.

He was finished eating long before the prefects were ready to show the first-years to class, and today James decided to make the full cast of Star Wars out of sausages. He was having a bit of trouble figuring out how to shape Princess Leia's hair when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"I don't like to be touched." James muttered coldly, glaring at Pucey over his shoulder.

The prefect shifted awkwardly, clasping his hands behind his back. "Professor Snape asked me to escort you to his office. He wishes to speak to you before class."

James rolled his eyes, dropping the still hair-less Princess Leia on his plate and biting off Chewbacca's head as he stood up, snatching his bag off the ground. He stared pointedly at Pucey, who silently lead the way out of the Great Hall.

"You haven't slept in the dorms since the first night." Pucey mentioned casually as they made their way down into the dungeons.

"I didn't sleep that first night I spent there." James corrected. "What's it to you?"

"Snape knows."

"I figured." James shrugged.

"You're going to be in a lot of trouble." Pucey muttered, turning down the corridor that lead to Snape's office. "Rule Four."

"I haven't got caught," James said simply, "Which means that someone broke Rule Three."

Pucey blinked at him, pausing for a second before raising his hand to knock on Snape's office door. The door swung open before the knock fell.

"Enter."

"I brought Potter to see you." Pucey said quietly, stepping in the door. James followed slowly.

"Very well. You may return to the Great Hall, Mr. Pucey. Mr. Potter. Have a seat."

James considered arguing, but thought better of it. He sat down heavily on the wooden chair in front of Snape's desk and tried not to fidget as the door shut behind him. For a long time, Snape didn't look up from the papers he was marking. James huffed at that, playing with the hem of his robes.

"You have not been spending the night in your dorm, Mr. Potter." Snape started abruptly, black eyes flickering up to stare coldly at James. "Care to explain yourself?"

"Not really."

"Do not get smart, Mr. Potter."

"I'm not trying to be smart. You asked if I cared to explain. I don't. What's smart about that?" James grinned cheekily.

"I will take the choice away, then. Explain yourself. Now."

James rolled his eyes, slumping in his chair. "I've nothing to say."

Snape stood abruptly, hands flat against his desk. "You owe me three detentions, Mr. Potter. As for your continuing disregard for curfew, that will be another detention for every night you have spent out of bed. Starting tonight, and every night for the next six days you will report here at 6:00. When your detention is over, I will escort you back to your dorm room and you will not be permitted to leave until 6:00 the following morning."

"How am I supposed to do my homework if I have detention every night!?"

"You have plenty of time to address your homework between the end of classes and dinner. You will also have an adequate amount of time in the evenings after your detentions to continue working on it. As a first year, you hardly have enough homework to fill up even that amount of free time."

James glared, crossing his arms. "You're a right bastard, you know that?"

"Watch your mouth."

"I would, but my eyeballs are firmly attached to my forehead and can't quite swivel that far. If you really want me to, why don't you loan me a mirror—if you even own one."

Snape stared at him for a minute, and James swore he saw the man's lips almost twitch into a smile.

"Shall I add another detention for disrespect?"

"Don't even." James threw his hands in the air. "Don't even try to go there again."

"Make that seven detentions. Shall we go for eight?"

James fell resolutely silent, glaring down at the floor.

"I see you're learning."

"Oh shut up! You were being a complete prick the other night, and you know it."

"You were purposefully being a completely unreasonable, arrogant little brat!"

"Why? Because I asked you not to manhandle me and had to keep repeating myself because you wouldn't listen?" James leapt to his feet. "Or because I don't just blindly obey everything you say like some obedient little dog?"

"We'll make that ten detentions, then." Snape very suddenly leveled his voice. "Class is going to start soon. I will escort you to the classroom, and you can set up your cauldron early."

James growled. "Can't argue with that, huh?"

"Shut up, or you'll find yourself in detention every night for the next month."

"Yeah, yeah." James stuffed his hands in his pockets, falling silent as he followed the Potions Master out of his office and back down the corridor.

The potions classroom was dark and dank, just like the rest of the dungeons. James scrunched his nose, taking a seat at the very back of the classroom. Snape glared at him.

"The rest of your Slytherin classmates will likely sit at the front of the class."

"Good for them." James dug in his bag, pulling out his cauldron and potions books.

"It would behoove you to move to the front."

"What, so you can sit there looming over me and making nasty comments at me the whole time? Don't think so." James snatched up one of his books, flipping to a random page to start reading. Snape snarled something and swept back out of the room, but James ignored him. A few minutes later, the rest of the Slytherin first-years showed up with Pucey.

James tensed when Pucey approached him. "What do you want?"

"Snape tear you a new one?"

"Nope. Wants to start having tea—thinks I'm funny." James said seriously, glancing up at the prefect. "He also thinks you're a suck up—but you didn't hear it from me."

Pucey scowled at him, but didn't say anything further as the door opened and the Gryffindor first-years started filing in. Instead, he leaned in close. "Watch yourself, Potter. Or you're going to find yourself in trouble so deep you'll never find your way out."

"Been there before—got out just fine." James said cryptically, grinning. "Besides, if I can take on Fenrir Greyback, blokes like you should be a piece of cake. You're fragile—you break easy." James pointedly tapped his fingers on the top of the desk, never looking up from his book. He smirked when Pucey took a quick step back.

"You have to sleep some time, Potter."

"So do you, Pucey."

The prefect obviously didn't know what to say to that, and he stared down at James for a few seconds before leaving the classroom. James glanced around at the students that were sitting divided by house. Sure enough, the Slytherins were up front, with the Gryffindors in the back. It was funny to notice that there was a wide ring of empty stools around James. He nodded at Neville when he caught the boy staring at him, but the pudgy boy flushed and quickly ducked his head.

Most of the students jumped when the door to the classroom slammed open and Snape swept in. James couldn't help rolling his eyes and grinning at the man as he started on his speech. He hardly paid any attention to what was said, instead watching the way the man carefully caught and held the attention of everyone in the class until the silence could have been shattered with a drop of a pin.

The man was good, James had to give him that. He whole intimidation act was very believable—for the rest of the suckers in the class. It just made James giggle.

"Is there something you find amusing, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, Sir." James said, purposefully not explaining.

"Do enlighten us."

"Oh, it's nothing really." James pretended to duck his head in embarrassment. "It's just… that was such a cute little speech. I was wondering how many times you had to practice it to get it right. I was quite impressed."

Snape's eyes darkened in fury, and James cocked his head to the side. "Is something wrong, Sir?"

Several of the Gryffindor coughed subtly to hide their giggles, and the Slytherins were staring at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

"Ten points from Slytherin for your cheek, Mr. Potter."

James' eyes widened. "What cheek? I was trying to compliment you!" He was pleased to notice several of the Gryffindors staring blankly at Snape as if they couldn't figure out just why he was so mad.

"Since you are feeling talkative, Mr. Potter, why don't you answer a few questions?" Snape straightened up, crossing his arms so his robes draped just right. James mentally rolled his eyes.

"Alright, Sir. I'll try my best."

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to infusion of wormwood?"

Oh, that bastard! James blinked, furrowing his eyebrows as he raked his mind for the answer. James noticed the competitive girl from the train—Hermione—waving her hand in the air, and felt a stab of irritation. He'd come across both ingredients in his reading, but he couldn't place them together. "No potion we'll be brewing as first-years."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Snape glared at him. "Pardon?"

"The Draught of Living Death is carefully regulated by the Ministry." James continued, glad that his cheek had bought him time to dredge up the answer. Go figure he'd read it in the book on Wizarding Laws and Regulations. "They don't even let NEWT level students brew it. Why would you expect me to know that, if I'm just a first-year?"

Snape remained silent for a moment, a tick making an appearance on his forehead. "Do you think you're clever, Mr. Potter?"

"Not at all, Professor."

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"I wouldn't look for it myself—don't really fancy cutting up a goat and fishing around in its stomach." James was fighting very hard to hold himself still. He didn't want to fidget and give away how nervous he was. He'd pulled that answer out of thin air, had no clue where it had come from. Hermione had turned to stare at him, her hand hardly even twitched before James had spouted the answer.

Snape's eyes narrowed, his glare intensifying. James shuddered when he was suddenly overcome by the feeling of a heavy brick wall falling into place in front of him. Oh… He was going to be in so much trouble.

"Very well, Mr. Potter. One last question. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

James was silent for a while, thinking back to his reading. He glanced at Hermione, who was staring at him with a smug look as she held her hand as far in the air as it would go. He practically heard her bossy voice in his head.

"Trick question. They're the same plant, also known as aconite." James answered firmly, watching Hermione's shoulders slump and carefully not meeting Snape's gaze.

"Impressive, Mr. Potter. Perhaps during your detention tonight you will be able to enlighten me as to how you came across the answer to those questions, as they weren't in any of your textbooks."

James bristled. "Meaning you were trying to trap me with questions I was never meant to be able to answer? Which means now you're trying to save face because it backfired on you."

No one in the classroom dared to even breath.

"Twenty points from Slytherin for your lack of respect."

"Hard to show respect to someone that's not respectable." James muttered.

Gasps broke out throughout the classroom, and James barely had time to brace himself before Snape had crossed the room and snatched him up by the collar of his robes. "Get out of my class."

James was forcibly dragged to the door and thrown out into the hallway. He ducked quickly as all his books, his bag and his cauldron came flying after him. The door slammed loudly in his face, leaving James alone in the dank corridor, staring at his bent cauldron and his torn books.

"Shouldn't play the game if you're not prepared to lose." He said loudly, hoping his voice carried into the classroom. He sat down on the floor, carefully scooping up his books and setting them back together with the pages in their proper order before casting 'reparo' on them. They knitted back together, but there was nothing he could do about the bent cauldron.

With a sigh, James shoved everything into his bag and pushed to his feet. A feeling of guilt washed over him. How was he supposed to help Carl if he couldn't keep his temper in check long enough to make it through one potions class? That was the whole reason he was in this hell-hole in the first place. He'd forgotten that, being so wrapped up in everything else.

If he wasn't going to try to stick it out to help Carl, there was no point in sticking around at all.

James kicked angrily at the wall, hissing when his big toe started aching. Then, he limped off down the corridor and slowly made his way to the upper levels.

* * *

Severus was so furious he did something completely unprecedented. He let his class out early—without even making them brew a potion. Instead, he'd set a three-foot essay on the boil cure, due the next class.

It was harsh—yes. But the fearful looks and grumbling ensured that none of the little cretins would be emboldened by Potter's example.

Potter. That little shit had a death wish.

Severus stared around the classroom, his fists clenched and tried to gain control of his temper. It was the first time a student had managed to one-up him at his own game—by bloody legilimizing him no less! And even when he'd thrown his occlumency shields up, the little devil had simply stolen the answer from Granger—he was certain of it.

And then he'd had the nerve to criticize him.

Potter was going to pay. That boy would be lucky if he got to step outside before the winter holidays, with the number of detentions Severus was going to heap on him.

Oh. Severus was pissed. He was beyond pissed.

He was secretly hoping Potter would try to skive off his detention again. When he got his hands on that bloody little pissant…

The rest of Severus' classes flew by, with most of his students shaking under his glare. He felt a grim sense of triumph when he made several Hufflepuffs cry. It was so worth the scolding he'd get when Pomona found out.

Potter wasn't at dinner, and Severus was already plotting how he was going to catch the boy when he obstinately refused to show up for his much deserved detention that evening. So he was surprised as hell when a distinctly meek and apologetic boy-who-lived knocked on his office door, fifteen minutes early for his detention.

Potter was the picture of innocence, ducking his head and shuffling his feet as he stood uncertainly in the office door. "I'm sorry I disrespected you in class."

Severus sneered at the boy, turning his attention back to his grading, though his hands were really shaking too much with suppressed rage.

"Er… I promise I won't do it again."

"That is doubtful." Severus said shortly, still refusing to look up at the boy. He could tell those green eyes were studying him closely.

"Am I going to be allowed to come back to potions class? Or did I blow it for good?"

Severus finally glanced up, frowning as Potter flushed, biting his lip and quickly glancing down at the floor.

"Would you really be bothered if you did blow it for good? I was under the impression you thought brewing was as demeaning as cooking, and the potions themselves are disgusting."

"I am—I mean, I do think that. But I need to learn how to make them. That's why I came here."

Severus scowled, turning his glare back to the essay he was marking up and slowly analyzing the boys words. He 'needed' to learn them? Not wanted, needed. "You're telling me you only showed up for detention to try and suck up to me, so you could possibly return to my good graces enough that I might allow you to return to my class?"

"No. That's why I came to Hogwarts at all. I need—I want…"

Severus looked up as Potter trailed off, obviously frustrated and angry. "What do you mean?"

"I only came to Hogwarts because I want to learn about healing potions, okay!? There's someone I need to help. And I fucked up, I know I did. I got distracted because of all the shit! I don't fucking care about this boy-who-lived nonsense, and I don't care that everyone hates me. I'm only here for one reason, and if you're not going to let me back into potions tell me right now. Because if I can't learn that, there's no point in being here, and I'd much rather go home anyways!"

Severus remained silent for a long time, watching James coldly. "Surely you don't mean that. Hogwarts is an exemplary school. Your parents went here, your grandparents—"

"I don't fucking care about that!" James shouted. "My parents are dead! I never knew them! I didn't even know their names until Hagrid started telling me stories about them, and from what I understand they probably wouldn't like me much if they were alive because I'm nothing like them."

"Regardless. You are a Wizard, your place in the Wizarding World—"

"The Wizarding World can fuck itself. What place in the Wizarding World!? I don't have a place in the Wizarding World, I never had a place in the Wizarding World and I don't want a place in the Wizarding World." James sat down heavily, crossing his arms and glaring as Severus. "What has the Wizarding World ever done for me? Oh, I know. They took care of me when Voldemort murdered my parents—oops! No they didn't. They dumped me in the muggle world like a fucking stray dog."

Severus had nothing to say to that, but sensed a rare opening. "I wish I could give you answers to that, but to give you answers I have to know how you've been living in the muggle world. According to the school records, you are still under the guardianship of your aunt and uncle."

James blinked at him, eyes saddening. He looked lost. "Aunt and uncle? You mean—I have family still?"

Severus nodded. "Your mother's sister is still alive. She lives with her husband and their son. That is who you are supposed to be living with."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Like I said, your file still names Vernon and Petunia Dursley as your guardians."

"WHAT!?"

Severus jumped in his seat as every jar in his office exploded. James was on his feet, eyes wide and breathing heavily.

"You don't mean to tell me—_those people_ are supposed to be family!? Those fucking twisted lunatics—" The boy started pacing furiously, rubbing angrily at his arms through his robes. He stopped abruptly, turning back to Snape with wide, tear-filled eyes. "Tell me you're joking—tell me it's a lie. Please…"

"It's not a lie." Severus said calmly, waving his wand to clean the soggy mess from his desk and his person. "Why are the Dursleys twisted lunatics?"

James shook his head, seeming to realize he was rubbing frantically at his arms as he shakily forced his hands down by his sides. "Don't—they aren't my family—they can't be."

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, Petunia Dursley is your aunt."

"Stop! Just—Just stop!" James started pacing again. "They—how could they? They—they…"

"They what, Mr. Potter?"

The boy suddenly froze, turning to stare at him with wide, scared eyes. In a flash he schooled his expression, forcing his breathing to slow and was looking at him with a very blank face. "They don't matter. They're nothing."

Severus blinked at the abrupt change, mentally cursing the lost opportunity. "I don't suggest trying to hide whatever it is you're hiding, Mr. Potter. As I already explained, the Dursleys are still your legal guardians. If it is discovered that you are no longer living with them—"

"It won't be." James said flatly. "I promise nothing good will happen if anyone ever tries to send me back to them."

"Do not make idle threats, Mr. Potter. If you truly wish to remain out of their custody for good, you need to come forth with good reasons as to why. Convince me that I shouldn't act on the knowledge that you aren't living with your legal guardians, and instead seem to be on your own with only a handful of muggle friends and a brain-dead man in a hospital."

Green eyes suddenly blazed. "Aren't you clever—trapping me like that… You know—you have an idea, but you won't settle for that, will you? You want the dirty truth—the ugly facts!"

Severus remained quiet.

"And I have no choice, do I? Because you're going to use them to threaten me into getting what you want. Fuck you. I hate you."

Still, Severus said nothing as the boy paced angrily around the office, his breathing getting faster and faster. Finally, he stilled, not facing Severus. "Rule Number One: I am a freak. I must not forget I am a freak…"

Severus listened intently as James quietly started listing off rules—disgusting rules, outrageous rules. After reciting the twenty-fifth rule, the boy paused, turning to stare at Severus with a watery glare. His breath hitched before he angrily tugged his robes over his head, throwing them on the ground. He continued to strip until he was standing completely naked, shivering against the cold—there wasn't a point on his body that wasn't marred with scars.

"Rule Number Twenty-Six: If I break any of the rules, I must punish myself." The boy slowly trailed a finger over some of the scars on his arm. "Number Twenty-Seven: If I don't do a good job punishing myself, I will get a worse punishment."

Severus stood slowly, circling around his desk and approaching the trembling child. He was rubbing his arms again, almost frantically as Severus passed a wide circle around him, careful not to get so close as to make the boy panic.

"It's been years—but I still remember every fucking rule—I still remember every time I had to punish myself, and every punishment that came after because it was never good enough the first time…" James whispered. He suddenly looked straight up at Severus, green eyes still shining with tears but with a hard gleam that didn't belong in the eyes of an eleven-year-old. "If I get sent back there, I'll kill them. I swear I will. They will never break me again—I won't let them."

Severus held the gaze for a second, before turning away. "You can put your clothes back on, Mr. Potter. I have no intention of sending you back to the Dursleys."

There was a moment of silence.

"You fucker! You were bluffing!"

Severus smirked at the boy, who was furiously tugging his clothes back on. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Bravo! Fucking brilliant! What now, going to have a good laugh? Going to pat yourself on the back because you tricked me into telling you something so humiliating?"

"Do not even start that, Mr. Potter. Such accusations are completely unfounded." Severus snapped. "Now sit down, because we still need to have a serious talk about your current living arrangements."

"Go to hell. I'm not going to tell you anything!"

Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was going to be a long night.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Narcissa watched her husband as he stared at their long-time friend, carefully observing the distant way the man was sipping his firewhiskey.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"You're preoccupied." Lucius set his own glass of liquor down. "What is troubling you?"

"Potter." Severus answered coldly. "I've discovered a bit about his past—a large deal, actually. But I still can't get him to tell me about his current living arrangements. It is very possible that he simply ran away, but if that's the case I don't see why he wouldn't just come out and tell me. He's protecting someone, I think."

"I see. But you are filling in the blanks and figuring out how he slipped through the cracks?" Lucius sat back in his chair, glancing at Narcissa. "How did Dumbledore lose him?"

"He was living with his muggle relatives—Lily had a sister. They were… let's just say their treatment of the boy is reminiscent of the old days."

Lucius' eyebrow arched up. "That bad?"

"Worse than you are probably imagining, even." Severus sighed heavily. "I don't know how he got out—from what I understand it has been several years. But younger children aren't generally able to escape abusive households like that, and if he'd been removed from the household there would be a legal trail. Instead, his aunt and uncle are still his legal guardians. No one even knew that the boy was no longer living there—no one knows now, with the exception of us, Minerva and Potter himself."

"And do you intend to draw attention to the matter?" Narcissa asked delicately. "He shouldn't be living on the streets."

"I worry about drawing attention, because for this to have gone unnoticed for so long it meant that no one ever checked on him after he was left on his relative's doorstep."

"Doorstep?" Narcissa questioned. "You mean that figuratively, of course?"

"Literally. Albus left Harry Potter on their doorstep the night he was orphaned, and hasn't so much as looked in on the boy since then." Severus explained. "Both Hagrid and Minerva were there when he did it."

Lucius swallowed heavily. "And you are thinking it was intentional?"

"I'm thinking nothing of it yet. However, I was planning on paying them a visit."

"Would you mind terribly if I tagged along?" Narcissa asked, exchanging a look with Lucius. "I am—curious."

"I am as well." Lucius agreed.

Severus was silent for a minute. "Perhaps. Do you think you will be able to hold your temper, Narcissa?"

"Do you?" Narcissa challenged smoothly.

* * *

Severus strode briskly down Privet Drive, Lucius and Narcissa following him silently. They were wearing muggle business suits, though the effect was probably ruined by Severus and Lucius' long hair. People were peeking through their windows to watch them as they marched up the walk of Number 4. It was Saturday, so there was a good chance both Dursleys were home.

There was a moment of silence after Severus knocked firmly on the door, and he glanced at Lucius and Narcissa. They were both stoic, though he could tell from years of experience that just under the surface Narcissa was bristling with rage.

The door swung open, revealing a very fat child with several chins and beady eyes. He was chewing noisily, a candy bar in hand and chocolate smeared on his face. He stared at the trio on his doorstep.

"Who are you?"

"I am looking for Vernon and Petunia Dursley. It is a matter of business. Are they home?"

"Mom! Dad! Some people at the door for you!" The blonde pig of a boy yelled loudly over his shoulder, leaving the door open as he retreated back into the house. Severus stepped into the entryway, motioning Lucius and Narcissa in as well and closing the door behind them.

"Can I help you?"

Petunia Evans had not blossomed in adulthood, and as Mrs. Dursley she looked a lot like a horse. Severus cleared his throat, incredibly pleased when the woman stared at him without recognition. "Is your husband home? We have some urgent business to discuss with the both of you regarding your nephew."

"My nephew? I don't have a nephew."

"You are not aunt to one Harry Potter?" Severus asked, furrowing his brow. "I have it in my records that Vernon and Petunia Dursley are Harry Potter's legal guardians."

"Whatever the boy has done, it has nothing to do with us." Petunia said furiously, keeping her voice low. "He ran off—ages ago."

"And you never reported it?" Severus could tell she was lying.

"I did! No one ever got back to us!" Petunia's voice went higher until it cracked. "Now please, get out of my home."

"I don't think so, Mrs. Dursley. You see, I am a professor at Hogwarts. Mr. Potter is one of my students, and I am here as his head of house as part of a routine meeting with my students families. Now, I find it rather suspicious that you first deny any relationship with the boy, then make up some story about him running off. I know for a fact you never reported that he was missing, because it would be in our records. We have means of keeping track of things like that." Severus said pointedly, watching the woman pale.

"Petunia? What's going on?"

"This is all your fault! I warned you! I warned you they would come for us if we didn't keep him!" Petunia rounded on her husband as he appeared in the doorway leading from the hall. "I told you they'd show up, asking about him!"

"What are you on about!? Who are they?" Vernon asked gruffly, his beady eyes narrowing at Severus as his face rapidly turned purple. "Who do you think you are, barging into my home and upsetting my wife?"

"They're freaks! And they've come about _him_!" Petunia shrieked, beating her fists heavily against her husband's chest. "I told you to get him back! I told you!"

Vernon grabbed his wife's arms, forcing her to still. The blood drained from his purple face in patches, leaving him looking speckled. "Freaks? You don't mean…?"

"Yes! They're like my sister and her no-good husband!" Petunia wrenched out of Vernon's grasp, turning back to Severus. "I tried to stop him—it's his fault."

"What is his fault?" Lucius asked calmly. "Perhaps we should take this conversation inside? I don't fancy standing in the doorway like peasants."

Petunia nodded, pushing on Vernon until the large man retreated further into the house. The large boy was in the living room, and stared as the adults entered the room.

"Dudders. Go over to Piers' house." Petunia demanded. "Stay over there until I come get you, alright baby?"

"Why?"

"Just do as you're told!" Petunia shrieked. "Your daddy is in trouble and I don't want you to get hurt."

Severus snorted when the woman glared at him, taking a seat on the couch and smoothly crossing his legs. Narcissa sat to his left, and Lucius took the seat to his right. Vernon was pulling nervously on the collar of his shirt, and Petunia was ushering her son out of the house.

"I am waiting for an explanation." Severus drawled when Petunia had finally reentered the room. "What happened to your nephew?"

"Vernon sold him!" Petunia blurted.

"Petunia!"

"Well, that's what happened!"

"You sold him!" Narcissa was on her feet in a flash, eyes blazing as she whipped out her wand. "You sold that child!? To whom!? And for what purpose!?"

"Narcissa." Severus warned, pulling on her arm until she lowered her wand. He turned his darkest glare towards the cowering man.

"I didn't sell him—had to pay them to take him! But they wanted him!"

"Who?" Severus demanded, glancing at Lucius, whose knuckles were white at the grip he had on his cane.

"The kidnappers! They snatched my Dudley up, and took the other one too!" Vernon squirmed. "We never wanted him—he was dumped on our doorstep. I thought—I thought what better way to get him out of our hair? But I changed my mind! I tried to get him back, but they wouldn't give him back to me! They told me I was to forget he ever existed, and if they ever found out I was trying to get him back they'd come after my family!" The man was sweating profusely.

"You paid kidnappers to keep him?" Severus asked flatly. "Who were they? I want names."

"I don't know! I only had contact with one of them, once! And that was for the drop. He took the money and gave me back my son. Jumped on my case about _the other one_, calling me names, told me there was no way I'd ever get him back." Vernon was gripping the arms of the chair feverishly. "Haven't seen the boy since—except at the zoo one day. He used his freakiness and set a boa constrictor loose on my son."

"Why do you suppose they wanted to keep him?" Narcissa asked calmly.

"How should I know? I don't know how a bloody criminal's mind works!?"

"Is it perhaps because they discovered how you treated your nephew?" Severus demanded quietly.

"We treated him better than he deserved!" Vernon bellowed, jumping to his feet.

"Is that so?" Severus stood slowly, whipping out his wand. "Tell me about the rules he had to follow? Tell me about the cupboard? Tell me about making him carve into his own flesh to punish himself for being a 'freak.' Tell me about how he had to earn his food?"

"The boy is a liar! Whatever he's been telling you—"

"Mrs. Dursley. Kindly explain to your husband that in the Wizarding World there are many methods used to determine whether a person is lying or not." Severus hissed. "Several of which I am an expert in."

Petunia was pale as a ghost, shaking like a leaf. "He thought we could beat it out of him—the magic. It was Vernon's idea. He thought we could make him normal."

Severus didn't have to say anything further, as both Lucius and Narcissa threw curses at the two vile, cowering muggles.

* * *

"What are you going to do?" Minerva asked Severus seriously when he was meeting with her in her office to give her a somewhat modified version of events. "We can't let Harry get sent back there—and at this point he'll seem like a runaway if anyone finds out he's not living with his relatives. Did you find out where he's living now?"

"I did not." Severus said simply. "However, I do have a plan. I was hoping for your cooperation."

"You have my support." Minerva said immediately, though she hesitated after a second. "Though, please don't ask me to do anything illegal."

Severus shifted. "It's not strictly illegal, mostly just overlooking possible illegalities. I think the best solution right now is to make sure no one knows Mr. Potter is not living with his relatives and treat it as if they are still his guardians. At least until we know to what extent his plight was the result of intentional manipulation."

Minerva blinked at him. "You want me to pretend that I have no clue that Mr. Potter spends his time away from Hogwarts anywhere other than safely with his family?"

"Exactly." Severus leaned back in his chair. "The Dursleys have already agreed to help with the façade—I will be contacting them whenever the need arises, make them sign forms on behalf of Mr. Potter. But Potter will not be stepping foot in that household again."

"I see." Minerva sighed. "I don't really like this, Severus. It doesn't feel right. But I will keep quiet unless the situation truly calls for it. But you know, I'm not really comfortable with lies and subterfuge."

"I know. However, I doubt anyone will even think to question it. I'll be having words with Mr. Potter to ensure that he continues to keep his whereabouts in the muggle world to himself." At that, Severus stood and left Minerva's office with a nod. He'd left out the kidnapping altogether, knowing that Minerva could be brash and unreasonable about such issues. She wouldn't have been able to see the situation as anything other than black and white.

Severus himself was having a hard time accepting the fact that Potter's situation was a nasty, dirty shade of grey. Logically he knew that Potter's life had probably been the better because of the kidnapping. But logically, he also knew that it wasn't right for the boy to have had to live amongst his kidnappers.

Lucius was looking into Carl Broderick—though that wasn't a promising lead. However, it was possible they'd be able to find his known associates and be able to trace his connection to Potter. Severus was almost certain that Broderick was behind the kidnapping.

At the same time, he could hardly bring himself to fault a man for helping a child like James despite the bizarre circumstances, and he certainly couldn't fault James for his loyalty to the people that had saved him from the Dursleys.

* * *

The Slytherin common room was empty—James crept slowly towards the door. It was the third night Snape had confined him to the dungeons, and he was well fed up with being surrounded by the assholes known as his housemates.

"Where do you think you're going, Potter?"

James whipped around, glaring at the older boy. Marcus Flint. He was a fourth year, and had quite a following in Slytherin because of his place on the quidditch team.

He was dangerous.

James could recognize that much just by looking at him. There were a handful of Slytherins like that—with that hard edge that James himself had. He wasn't sure if the confrontation with Flint was going to finally come to a head, but if it did there would be no 'playing.'

"Don't see how that should matter to you. What are you, my mother?" James asked.

Flint pushed himself up from the couch he'd been lounging on. "You don't fool me, Potter. Underneath your big words is nothing but a scared, little boy."

"You want to test that out?" James asked, pulling his wand at the same time Flint did. They stood in a stalemate, facing off against each other for a split second.

"Conjuctivus!"

"Ureniscabium!"

James was fairly certain his spell hit, but couldn't be sure when his eyes started burning and his vision went black from Flint's spell. His heart jumped to his throat, and he blindly leapt to the side as he heard the older boy throwing another jinx at him.

"Scourgify!" James didn't stop to gloat when the older boy howled in pain at the suds scrubbing at his skin that was already raw and tender, instead fumbling for the door of the common room. He finally found it, pushing it open and sprinting blindly to his right—towards the upper levels. He heard footsteps pounding behind him and shot another spell over his shoulder.

"Locomotor Mortis!"

The muffled yell and resounding crash let him know that he'd hit his target, and he ran faster, slamming heavily into a wall and blindly feeling along until he found the turn in the corridor. It was a smaller corridor, so he knew he'd overshot the stairs to the upper levels. His heart was in his throat as he ran, blindly feeling his way around twists and turns as the air got steadily colder. He slipped in a puddle of water, tearing his robes and the skin underneath as he skidded across the stone floor.

Unphased, he pushed himself to his feet and continued running, trying to listen for any sound of pursuit.

The floor vanished out from underneath him without warning, and he had no time to do anything as he pounded down a set of stairs he hadn't been able to see coming. He landed in a pained, tangled heap at the bottom, every breath causing sharp pain as he fought as hard as he could to push himself to his feet.

He couldn't get back up, he couldn't feel his legs at all and every time he moved his back screamed in agony. James bit his hand to keep himself quiet as a scream welled in his throat. Fear engulfed him, and he started clawing at the ground to pull himself along further.

"James?"

James froze at the gruff, raspy voice of the Bloody Baron.

"Don't move, son. I'm going to get help."

James couldn't tell whether the ghost had left or not, and continued to drag himself across the wet floor until a wall prevented any more forward movement.

After what seemed like ages, brisk sure footsteps echoed through the passageway, growing louder and louder. James waited silently, blinking rapidly and turning his head towards the approaching person.

"Mr. Potter." Snape's voice was deathly quiet, and James didn't bother trying to speak as a cold hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder. "What hurts, Mr. Potter?"

"I broke my back." James said flatly. "I've been blinded."

Snape was silent for a minute, though the rustling of robes suggested he was moving about. "Relax, Mr. Potter. I am going to place you in a charmed coma so you don't aggravate your injuries. When you awaken, you should be completely healed."

Before James could argue he felt the soothing, lulling sensation wash over him and his eyelids were suddenly much too heavy. His mind seemed to be travelling down a long tube, going faster and faster until utter blackness engulfed him and all he could see was darkness and all he could hear was pained screaming and high-pitched laughter.

* * *

Sometimes, Severus absolutely loathed Rule Three. It was infuriating that he couldn't hunt down the fucker in his house that had attacked James.

There was a rather grim atmosphere in Slytherin, that had set in the night James had been found in a broken heap at the bottom of the steps in a disrepaired section of the dungeons. He had been working around the clock with Madame Pomfrey, trying to fix the boy up. Repairing damaged spinal cords was a tiresome process. Thankfully, the boy had been found quickly, which made the healing somewhat easier.

Outside of Slytherin, no one was the wiser that James' _accident_ had been the result of foul play. Most of the school seemed to accept that the boy had been wandering where he shouldn't have been and had taken a nasty fall. Severus was having trouble fighting his own guilt—he'd been the one to force James back into the Slytherin dorms every night.

It was three days before they were ready to wake James from his magically induced coma. Severus was completely stoic, careful not to show any emotion when blurry green eyes finally blinked open to look at him.

"How long was I out?"

"Three days."

"Ugh. No wonder my eyeballs feel like they're about to fall out. Didn't anyone think it would be a good idea to take out my contact lenses?"

"What are contact lenses?" Severus asked blankly, wincing when the boy sat up and pulled his eyelids wide open. Much to his disgust, the boy produced a small, rounded lens on the tip of his finger.

"So I don't have to wear glasses." James muttered, carefully setting the lens on the table beside his bed and taking the other one out. He blinked rapidly, groaning and rubbing at his eyes.

"You wear these directly on your eyes?" Severus sneered, picking up one of the lenses. It was hard and unyielding underneath his fingers.

"Well, yeah. They're just like small glasses. Do you know where my bag is? I'm blind as a fucking bat without them."

Severus nodded to the leather satchel on a chair next to the bed. The boy reached over to grab it, wincing heavily.

"Ouch."

"Ouch indeed." Severus shook his head. "You had quite a few nasty injuries from your fall."

James ignored him, instead frowning down at his bag and then glaring up at Severus. "What did you do to it?"

"I placed an anti-theft charm on it, keyed to your magical signature so no one would tamper with it while you were unconscious." Severus explained. "It will give anyone that handles it a nasty shock—besides yourself, of course."

"Even you?" James asked pointedly, fishing into the bag and pulling out a small black case. Severus arched an eyebrow when the boy pushed thick, black-framed glasses on his face that magnified his green eyes, making him look somewhat like a bug.

"I also exempted myself." Severus admitted. "I did not realize you needed corrective lenses."

"That's the point of contacts. Besides, glasses get broke too easily." James shrugged, laying back in the bed. "Can I get something to eat in this place?"

Severus snapped his fingers, and a house-elf appeared. "Bring Mr. Potter some soup. What would you like to drink, Mr. Potter?"

"Coffee."

"I don't think so. Bring him some pumpkin juice along with his meal." Severus snapped at the elf. The elf vanished with a 'pop.'

"What the bloody hell was that?"

"A house elf. They work for wizards. There are close to a hundred working at Hogwarts. They are responsible for the meals and keeping the castle clean."

"Oh." James frowned. "Then what the hell is up with that Filch bloke?"

"Language, Mr. Potter." Severus chided. "As you are well, I will leave you in Madame Pomfrey's hands. Your professors have all given you an extension on your homework, and you will be in here another night. You won't have to return to classes until Thursday."

Severus didn't look back as he left the hospital wing. The boy recovered fast. He snorted to himself. He would have to do something about those blasted contact lenses, though. He couldn't have the boy running around with shards of glass in his eyes.

Maybe it was time to make good on the Dursleys promise to keep up the appearance of guardianship and get signed permission for the boy to undergo a vision-correction procedure.

* * *

By the time James was finally released from the Hospital Wing Wednesday afternoon, he had a pretty firm plan for revenge against Flint. Unfortunately, he didn't quite know all the spells he'd need to pull it off.

Which was how he found his way to the library, hiding under the cover of all the homework he had to make up. He cringed slightly when he realized he hadn't started on any of it, as he had no clue how to go about writing an essay. He'd never written one before.

Shakily, he pushed thoughts on unfinished homework to the back of his mind. He had a much more pressing issue, and quite a few spells to look up and learn before he could even dream of putting it into play.

There were few students in the Library, as classes hadn't let out for the day. Mostly, they were older students that Harry didn't recognize. The pompous Gryffindor prefect, the oldest Weasley boy that he'd seen at Kings Cross was there. He puffed out his chest a bit as he approached Harry.

"Mr. Potter. Are you feeling better? I see Madame Pomfrey was able to fix you up after your accident."

James nodded, frowning in irritation. "Got loads of homework to catch up on, though."

The red-head didn't seem to get the hint, instead pulling up a chair to sit down next to James. He sorted through some of the stacks of parchment where James had scribbled out the essay topics.

"Indeed you do. You'll find the best explanation on levitation charms in _Charming Every Day Objects_. It's one of Flitwick's personal favorites. And for McGonagall's essay try _The Nature of Change: A Theory of Transfiguration Properties_. It will give you loads of information and save you from having to hunt down all the definitions in a half-dozen other books."

James blinked at the prefect. "Er… Thanks."

"Not a problem. It is a prefects duty to offer guidance to the younger students." The red-head looked rather pleased with himself. "I'm Percy—Percy Weasley."

"James." James held out his hand for the older boy. "Thanks for the advice."

"Anytime, James." Percy continued grinning at him, and James quickly went in search of the suggested books. Percy was blatantly looking through his other papers when he returned to the table.

Sensing an opportunity, James bit his lip and looked at the older boy with wide eyes. "Er… Could I ask you something? What exactly am I supposed to put in the essays? I know I'm supposed to write about the topics, but it doesn't seem to me like the professors just want me to copy out of the books."

"No, no." Percy shook his head, taking the charms book from James and flipping through to the section on levitation charms. "You need to put it in your own words—to demonstrate that you understand it. The professors don't want you just parroting information at them, they'd much rather you explain the concept in simple terms that you understand. Take for instance 'Levitation charms primarily work because the incantations direct energy into lifting an object against the flow of gravity. The reason there are separate charms for levitating animate and inanimate objects is because the nature of the natural energy they possess means that different energies have to be tapped to work with an objects nature rather than against it.' Instead, you would write something like 'Levitation spells work differently on different objects. They use energies to make things lift off the ground. Since there are all sorts of different energies, there are different charms that take advantage of those energies. That's why there's a different levitation charm to use on non-living things such as books or rocks than is used on plants and animals.'"

James hurriedly scribbled out what Percy was dictating with a muggle pen. "That makes sense. Thanks."

"Any time, Mr. Potter. Any time."

James pretended to delve into the books Percy had suggested as the red-head moved away, instead talking to some fourth-years a few tables away. When the coast was clear, he pulled out a clean piece of parchment and scratched out a list. The levitation spells had given him an idea.

_Spell that will levitate a person  
A spell that will keep them floating once they're up  
Spell that will keep a person frozen in a certain position while they're floating  
A spell that will kill noise  
A sleeping spell  
A spell to keep people from noticing until I want them to_

James smirked, quickly flipping through the charms book and picking out the 'mobilicorpus' spell. It would levitate a person as if by strings. By dinner time, he had a list of spells he needed to learn.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Monday morning was cloudy and cold, and Severus was looking forward to a new week of torturing his students. The weekend had been uneventful, with the exception of James once again boycotting the Slytherin dormitories. Severus hadn't called him on it. A more permanent solution would need to be reached, however. The boy couldn't continue squatting in unused classrooms around the castle. Particularly not when the weather turned cold.

"Sir?"

Severus glanced up at Farley as she approached the head table slowly. "What is it?"

"It's Marcus—he didn't come back from the quidditch pitch on Saturday night. No one has seen him since he went flying."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "Are you certain?"

The prefect nodded mutely. "He left some of his homework on a table in the common room, planning to come back to it. It's still sitting there with his books and his favorite quill."

"If he still has not turned up by his first class I will take appropriate actions."

"Thank you, Sir." Miss Farley slowly returned to the Slytherin table. Potter was already at breakfast—as per usual. The boy was finished eating, and was instead using strips of bacon to dress the hard-boiled eggs in togas. Severus rolled his eyes when the boy proceeded to take out his wand and charm his eggs to march in a formation reminiscent of a roman legion.

None of the prefects called the boy on playing with his food, and most of his snakes seemed rather enthralled with the display as the legion of eggs marched pointedly in a circle, shifting formation under the boy's instruction and charging a hastily built toast wall.

The game had Flitwick squeaking and rushing over to the Slytherin table.

"That is some marvelous charms work, Mr. Potter. Absolutely marvelous!" The tiny man took the seat across from Potter, charming his own legion of eggs and they were soon in the middle of a mock battle, using toothpicks as spears and bits of toast as shields.

It created one giant mess.

Severus ignored the students as they slowly got louder, the hall filling up quite nicely. He was taken by surprise when the hall burst into laughter just as hundreds of owls swooped in for the morning rush.

The entire student body was staring at the ceiling, and Severus followed their amused gazes. He leapt to his feet when he realized that floating above their heads, frozen, spread eagled and completely naked was one Marcus Flint. He was slowly rotating, as if on an invisible gyrator.

"Everyone! Settle down!" Albus was on his feet, staring helplessly at the suspended boy above their heads.

"You heard the headmaster!" Severus roared. "Everyone out!"

The students were slow to follow the order, still looking up, pointing and giggling. The Weasley twins were positively rolling on the floor, and several of his snakes were glaring in their direction with their wands drawn. They cowered under a warning glare from Severus, however and stalked out of the hall.

Finally, all the students were gone and Severus turned to Flitwick. "Would you mind fetching my student from the ceiling in a manner that won't cause him bodily harm?"

"Of course." Flitwick frowned, passing his wand back and forth a few times. His brow was furrowed, and finally his face alit. "Ah. Very clever. Very clever indeed."

Soon, Flint was lowered to the ground, unfrozen and covered in a hastily conjured robe. The boy's face was flushed, and he was more than a little confused.

"I don't know what happened! One minute I was walking up from the quidditch pitch, the next I was floating on the ceiling and no-one could see me! Then, as soon as the owls swooped in it was as if everyone noticed me."

Severus was livid. How dare someone humiliate one of his snakes like that! It was those blasted Weasley twins, he knew it. Only they could pull something like this off, and actually had the balls to do it!

* * *

Marcus Flint was the talk of the school the entire day—James couldn't help smirking at some of the tales the students were twisting about whatever person had gotten the unfavorable boy so good.

The general agreement was that it had to have been the Weasley twins—that they were the only ones that could have possibly pulled something like that off.

And for the most part, James was content to let the school believe that.

Humming to himself, he made his way down to the Slytherin common room when classes were done for the day. The whole house had been on the defensive all day, and Flint had made himself scarce. It was high time for James to do a little subtle gloating and drop some hints to Flint that it was the older boy that didn't know what he was getting into by picking fights with James.

Nearly the entire house was packed in the common room, and most of them turned to stare when James walked into the room willingly, as if he did it every day. Sure enough, Flint was sitting in a corner of the room, glowering and muttering to Farley and several other students.

"…we'll get them back. I won't let those Gryffindor prats get away with this." Flint was muttering darkly as James approached.

"So, you think it was Gryffindors that got you, do you?" James asked coolly, cocking his head to the side when angry brown eyes came to rest on him. "Pity that you got one upped by a house that's supposed to be made up of reckless idiots, isn't it?"

Flint glared at him, his jaw dropping somewhat. "You!"

"Me? What about me?" James casually glanced down to examine his fingernails. "You don't think I had anything to do with it, right? I mean, I'm just a pathetic little first-year, a scared little boy… isn't that what you said?" James glanced back up with narrowed eyes. "Whatever could have made you change your mind to think I'm even remotely capable of something like this?"

Flint just gaped at him, his face flushed angrily.

"You know, I was trying to get my hands on a flesh-eating slug. Couldn't get one before last night, though. Lucky, I guess. I only needed one, and the masterpiece would have been complete." James smirked as the older boy paled. "Hagrid sprayed for them just last week, so there were none to be found. They'll be back, though. There's been a continuing problem with infestation for years now."

At that, James smiled widely at Flint and calmly turned to walk back out of the room.

"Potter!"

"Something to say to me, Flint?" James asked, still not turning around to look over his shoulder.

"You're bluffing."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Flint." James tossed his hair over his shoulder as he continued the last few steps out of the common room. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at Flint one last time. "I'm thinking baubles next time. Bet you can't guess where I'd hang them."

No one said a word as James left the common room, quickly ducking off the main paths that might lead to him running into other students. He was starting to know the castle like he knew the back of his hand.

* * *

"But we didn't do anything!"

Severus suppressed a snort, glaring down at the twin menaces even as they tried to reason with Minerva.

"We really didn't! Don't you think we'd take credit if we managed to get Flint that good? We've only been at war with him for ages!"

"That is precisely why you are the culprits behind this tasteless and potentially harmful prank!" Minerva explained harshly. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, and two weeks of detention for the both of you. I expect better from my students!"

Severus smirked when the boys slumped.

"But we really didn't do it."

"Enough. You are dismissed." Minerva snapped, pointing towards her office door. The boys glowered as they slowly marched out, and Severus shut the door behind them with a click.

"Does that satisfy you?" Minerva asked grimly, frowning up at Severus. "I'm not keen on handing out such harsh punishments without proof—but there really aren't any other likely culprits. They have a history with Flint, and they have the ingenuity to do something like this."

"I am inclined to agree with you on both counts." Severus nodded.

"Besides, the students have been talking about it nonstop for the past week. Most of them seem sure that it was Fred and George, and the rest believe some ridiculous rumor that it was Mr. Potter's doing."

Severus blinked at that. "They think Potter had something to do with it?"

"Yes. It's absurd, of course. How could a first-year possibly be able to pull something like that off?"

"It is unlikely." Severus agreed, though inwardly he was cursing. Potter probably _could_ do something like that—but why would he?

For revenge, maybe?

Severus shook his head, bidding Minerva goodbye and slowly making his way down to the Great Hall. He had another detention with Potter after dinner—perhaps he could ask the boy about it then. Not that he thought he'd be able to get a straight answer.

His detention plans were ruined, however with request by the Headmaster to bring Mr. Potter to his office. The boy looked suitably confused as he lead the way to the second floor and up the stairs that were already waiting their ascent into the office.

Inside the circular office, Albus was waiting patiently with Minerva and the Weasley twins.

"Severus! Please, have a seat. Good evening, Mr. Potter." Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"Good evening, Headmaster Dumbledore." James said politely.

"I'm sorry to call you up here unexpectedly, but certain rumors have reached my ears. Perhaps you could shed some light on them for me?"

"What rumors, sir?"

Severus watched the interaction with carefully concealed amusement. For all intents and purposes, James appeared to be a delightfully polite student, green eyes wide with innocence and curiosity. It was rather artistic.

"There are several unfortunate rumors regarding yourself and the horrible prank played against Marcus Flint at the beginning of the week. Quite a few students seem to think you are the one responsible for the attack on Mr. Flint."

"Me?" Green eyes blinked rapidly, glancing around at everyone in the room. "You think I did that? I don't—why would I do that to Marcus? He's in my house, and even if I haven't really talked to him I don't have any reason to want to hurt him."

"I don't think anyone here really believes you to be guilty, Mr. Potter. However, as both Mr. Weasleys firmly maintain their own innocence we are obliged to investigate other claims in case they are being wrongfully punished."

"Oh." James looked at the twins, eyes even wider than before. "Well, I don't want them to have to be punished if they didn't do it, but I don't know anything about what happened to Marcus. I mean—how would I even do that? We only just started on levitating feathers, I don't think I could Wingardium Leviosa a whole person like that."

Albus was silent for a minute, carefully scrutinizing James. "Of course, Mr. Potter. My apologies. I hope you will forgive us for suspecting you of something so nefarious."

Severus, on the other hand was completely, one-hundred percent convinced that James was guilty. He kept his mouth shut however, as Albus beamed at Potter, waving them out of his office with a sweep of his hand. James was silent as Severus lead him back down the spiral staircase and through the corridors. Severus remained quiet until they were back in his office.

"You do realize that Wingardium Leviosa only works on inanimate objects, and that there are a whole different section of levitation spells used on human beings, do you not?"

James blinked at him, and the smirk was barely visible in sparkling green eyes. "Now, professor… how would a first year know the importance of such differences?"

Severus smirked back. "They wouldn't. I feel obliged to congratulate you on a game well played. Subtly planting the idea that you aren't even capable of such a prank yet? You played the Headmaster—something that hasn't been done in several years, I assure you."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." James said, his eyes widening in confusion. "You think I just pulled one over on the _greatest_ wizard of all time?"

"I know so, brat." Severus growled. "Speaking of which, we need to discuss how you are going to keep fooling the Headmaster. Before this, I was going to suggest avoidance, but in lieu of what I just saw I think I am comfortable simply coaching you through."

Honest confusion shone in green eyes that time. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you need be incredibly wary of the Headmaster, particularly in regards to your life outside of Hogwarts. It is imperative that you do not let on that you are no longer living with the Dursleys." Severus explained. "It is fortunate that so few people know as it is—but we cannot be careless. You must keep it a secret or you are likely to get sent back there."

James stood frozen for a second, a suspicious gleam in his eye. "Why would the Headmaster want to send me back there? If he found out I wasn't there, couldn't you just tell him about—what they did to me?"

Severus sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk and leveling James with a stern look. "I could, but I wouldn't be sure that he would listen to me. You see—the Headmaster was the one that placed you there in the first place."

"He what!?"

"Let me finish telling you what you need to know before you completely lose your head." Severus growled. The boy blinked at him, mouth opened to argue. "I have no doubt you will be completely furious after I'm done explaining what I know to you, but you do need to hear everything and get it through your stubborn, thick skull that secrecy is more important than blindly rushing off for revenge."

"I wouldn't just blindly rush off for revenge!"

"Wouldn't you? The Headmaster has wronged you in quite a few ways. When you find out exactly how, you will have every right to be incensed. However, I am asking you to try to keep your head so we can develop a strategy. Can you at least try to do that?"

James huffed, crossing his arms. "Fine. But just so you know, if he's wronged me as much as you're hinting at I will have my revenge at some point. Even if it takes years."

"I would expect nothing less." Severus smirked, finally moving to take his seat behind his desk. "Sit down. This is going to take a while." He wordlessly cast a few spells at the jars lining his office walls.

"What was that for?"

"I do not wish to have to replace my ornaments—again." Severus shot the boy a very pointed look, pleased when he blushed and ducked his head.

* * *

James returned to the dorms without putting up a fight that night. He was still mulling over everything Snape had explained to him.

Strangely, he hadn't gotten angry yet. He just felt numb.

The Slytherin common room was fairly full, but James didn't pay attention to anyone as he slipped through and headed straight downstairs to the first-year dorm. His bed stood empty, and he stashed his bag up by the pillows, sitting on the bed silently with a good view of the door.

Voldemort was still alive.

That was disturbing. Mostly because here he was, in an alien world, hailed as a 'savior' when the very person he supposedly killed off as a baby was actually still out there and likely to come looking for revenge.

It was such a certainty that Dumbledore had taken the steps to protect him from the murderous madman by placing him with a magic-hating, abusive family and leaving him to rot. It was only a stroke of luck that had saved him from the Dursleys, as it was incredibly obvious that Dumbledore had never intended anyone to find him there.

His isolation from the Wizarding World had been intentional.

James growled, falling back on his bed with a snort. There was more to it. There had to be.

Why had Voldemort tried to kill him in the first place? Snape hadn't been able to answer that, though James was sure the man had an idea at the very least. And if Voldemort had been hell-bent on killing him as a baby, he was likely to be just as determined to try again, right?

Which meant that James was more important to the Wizarding World than he first thought—even with all the 'boy-who-lived' crap, he had thought it was over and done with. Voldemort was gone, what else could the Wizarding World need him for? That was exactly why James thought he'd been abandoned in the muggle world in the first place. Because while they thought it was great what he'd done to Voldemort and all, they really had no use for some poor orphan boy.

But if Voldemort wasn't gone, what was he supposed to do about it? It made no sense. And if he had a purpose, why had he been abandoned like he had? If Dumbledore had an use for him, shouldn't he have taken more steps to keep him safe rather than dumping him with the Dursleys?

James blinked rapidly over the angry tears that were welling up in his eyes.

The way Snape had explained it, Dumbledore had wanted him to grow up away from the influence of being famous. That meant that he was trying to manipulate the way James grew up. Right? It meant there was a certain way he needed James to turn out.

When he'd pointed that out to Snape, the older man had seemed impressed, but wary at the same time. He'd agreed that it was 'likely.' Which then led to him explaining why it was better if Dumbledore thought James was innocent and naïve—because even if they couldn't pinpoint exactly what Dumbledore was looking for in the 'boy-who-lived,' they could be certain that he wasn't looking for a sly, cunning, devious, truant little shit—as Snape so lovingly put it.

He'd also pointed out that Dumbledore knew full well that if James had really grown up with the Dursleys he wouldn't be bold and headstrong.

Which was why James had agreed to at least pretend to be good, which was why he had decided to return to the dorms.

And as for how James could have possibly been sorted into Slytherin without raising the headmaster's suspicions? Turns out Slytherin was quite the beacon for abused students—there were no other explanations needed to appease the headmaster on that.

James shifted, wiggling his way up the bed so he was lying on it lengthwise, but still had a good view of the door. If he was going to be following the rules and confining himself to the dorms, he'd have to figure out a way to protect himself while he was sleeping. He couldn't very well just stay awake and on guard every night, could he? He'd already been threatened, point blank that he 'had to sleep sometime.'

It was time to make some practical use of that book on wards he'd picked up from Gren's.

By the time his roommates started filing in for the night, James was deep in his books on runes, cross-referencing with the book on wards. He needed a lot more than just the beginning runes to make a decent ward. He'd already scribbled several pages of notes on stuff he'd have to look up in the library. At this rate, it would likely be weeks before he managed to figure out how to ward his bed—and that was only if he kept neglecting his homework.

James glanced warily around the dorm, wondering if he would be able to get away with camping out around the castle for just a little while longer.

Playing a 'good boy' would do him no good if he ended up in a fight with his housemates—particularly since the fights were starting to get nastier and it was only a matter of time before he was going to get his ass handed to him or hurt one of the other students so bad that Dumbledore would have no choice but to recognize the obvious—that James was a truant little shit.

That being said, James waited until everyone in the room was asleep before packing his stuff up and sneaking up to the common room. Pucey was the only one there, and the older boy just stared at him before turning back to his book.

At least Rule Three worked in his favor.

Another thought hit James, though he'd have to fine tune it if he wanted to turn it into a workable plan. If he ever did get caught out after curfew, he might be able to play it off by coming across as a victim, right? Afterall, even in the muggle world people ate up sob-stories about a pretty little boy with bright, green eyes. A few fake tears, a little bit of fear and he could have people eating out of his hand, doing everything they could to help 'poor, bullied Harry Potter' and working to keep him away from the 'nasty, half-blood hating snakes.' James smirked at that. Maybe that was a good angle to take with the Hufflepuffs.

* * *

James had only a seconds warning before the spell came at him from a cracked door in the corridor. He ducked, whipping out his wand and shooting of a stunning spell even as a second person came up behind him and pushed him into the empty classroom. He wrenched out of the grip, screaming out "Incarcerous!"

He blinked, stunned. The Weasley twins lay prone on the floor of the classroom, one of them stunned the other tied up tight and staring at him with shocked, slightly scared eyes.

"What the hell was that about!?" James demanded of the one still conscious boy. "What did I do to you!?"

"We got blamed for that prank you pulled on Flint. We got two weeks of detention for that—and we didn't have anything to do with it."

James blinked down at him. "Right. So you wanted revenge then? Wanted to beat me around a little, teach me a lesson?"

"No! Why would we—we were going to turn your hair blue!" The twin started struggling against the ropes. "You really did get Flint, didn't you? I knew it—you're not as helpless as you let on."

"I did." James admitted, severing the ropes tying the boy and helping him untangle them. "He deserved it. I really didn't mean for you two to get the blame though."

"Whatever." The twin stood up, pulling out his wand to revive his brother.

"Blue hair, huh? Why didn't you just ask? I'm cool with that." James stood up, smiling widely at their confused looks. "Well? Are you going to do it or not?"

They hesitated for a second, before one of them hesitantly raised his wand. When James didn't react, he muttered a spell.

A tingling feeling started at his scalp, following his hair all the way down. James took a lock in his hand to look at it. It wasn't blue.

"You said blue!"

"Yeah, well. We changed our minds." The twin shrugged, still tense. "What did Flint do to you to deserve that? Not that I'm complaining, or anything. We'd have loved to get Flint like that—been trying for years. But you're a Slytherin."

James shrugged, scowling slightly as he ran a hand through his now purple hair. "Being a Slytherin doesn't mean much to me—especially not since most of my house thinks I'm a filthy half-blood and has something to prove against the 'boy-who-lived.'"

"I hadn't thought of that. You know, most of the school is in a right state because you were sorted into Slytherin. I don't think anyone's thought about how it's probably bad for you. Can't be nice, being stuck with a bunch of Deatheater spawn."

James just smirked. "I've been managing pretty well."

"Still…" The twins exchanged a look. "We feel bad now."

"Don't. I did get you in trouble."

"Right. There is that." One of the boys threw an arm around James. "Want us to turn your hair back?"

"Nah. I kind of like it. I'll wear it like this for a while."

"You're a weird one."

"I think we like you, even if you are a snake."

"Er… thanks. Well, I'll see you later. Gred. Forge." James grinned at them. "By the way, Filch is headed this way. Just so you're warned."

"Bullocks!"

James grinned, slipping out of the classroom and down the darkened hallway, ducking behind a tapestry even as the greasy caretaker came around the corner with his fluffy monstrosity at his heels. The cat's fur bristled, and she slinked towards the still-open classroom door. Filch followed slowly, and James decided against making a clean break while the opportunity was there.

The twins would make great friends—but he'd never be able to get that far if he let them take the fall again. Instead, he carefully aimed his wand down the hall, focusing hard as he could before muttering the spell.

Just as he expected, the suit of armor shot into the air, crashing loudly into the ceiling before falling back down in a huge, clanging racket.

James ducked back behind the tapestry as both Filch and Mrs. Norris spun around, dashing down the corridor past his hiding place. He watched them pause for a second by the wrecked suit of armor before following the corridor to the right. James slipped out from behind the tapestry, tiptoeing to the classroom. He motioned to the twins to follow him, leading them back to the hidden passageway and up the stairs, where it emerged on the third floor.

"Thanks for that, mate." Gred whispered as James checked that the coast was clear before leading them through the shadows. "I thought we were goners."

"Shh!" James muttered. "You might still be—I think that's Snape!"

Sure enough, the sure steady footfalls were sharp and precise, and both twins paled. James motioned them after him, slipping back down the corridor and trying a door.

"That's the way to the forbidden corridor." A breath hissed in his ear.

"Can't be any worse than what Snape will do to us."

James stepped back as Forge—he hadn't a hope of actually telling them apart—slipped up to the door. "Alohomora!"

The door unlocked, and they slipped in, closing it behind them just before the footsteps grew even louder as they turned down the corridor. They listened intently at the cracks around the door, even as they heard rushed footsteps overtaking the first.

"Severus! There's students out of bed!" The new voice belonged to Filch.

"I've no doubt of that, Argus." Snape's cold voice was muffled through the door. James tensed suddenly, feeling hot, wet breath on the back of his neck in a huge burst that he was sure couldn't belong to the twins on either side of him. He turned slowly, drawing his wand and eyes widening as they came to rest on a three-headed dog towering over them.

"What do you expect me to do about it!? I promise, no students have been through here in the past ten minutes." Snape's voice drifted in through the closed door.

Whatever Filch was muttering was drowned out by a low, whining growl.

"Good dog." James muttered quietly, holding out a hand and wincing when growling growling became more pointed. The twins finally took notice of the beast, turning around and pressing themselves flush against the door.

"Is it sad that I'm wondering whether or not the dog's bark is worse than Snape's bite?"

James couldn't help the snicker, even as his eyes raked the area—there was a wooden door set in the stone floor, just under the dog's feet. "That's a nice puppy."

The dog barked, snapping as they dodged out of the way. James shot a stunner at the animal, but it bounced right back at him, almost taking him out and singing the ends of his hair.

"Yepp! Definitely rather be eaten by Snape!" One of the twins yelled, pulling the door open. They tumbled through the door in a heap, and James had enough mind left to kick the door back closed. They braced themselves, waiting for Snape to swoop in on them.

But he was gone.

"Well, I just about pissed myself." Gred said, sitting up and wrenching himself from the piles of limbs.

"I did a little." Forge said solemnly.

James shook his head. "So. What do you think they're guarding in there? Obviously they've hidden something that they don't want people to get at."

"What makes you say that?"

"There was a door underneath the dog." James said simply, pulling himself to his feet and brushing his robes off. "Isn't Cerberus supposed to be the guardian of the underworld?"

"You think they've hidden Hades at Hogwarts?"

"No," James said simply, glancing up and down the corridor before deciding the coast was truly clear, "but I think they're hiding something really important."


End file.
